


To Fight Together

by ShootingStarSojourner



Series: To Come Together [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Battle of New York (Marvel), Canon Divergence - Avengers (2012), Captain America: Man Out of Time, Coma, Developing Friendships, F/M, Friendship, Loki is trying to take over the world, Manipulation Powers, Mind Control, POV Second Person, Part 2, Power Hungry Loki, Reader has insomnia, Reader-Insert, Readers has powers, Relationship Problems, Shooting Stars, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Teamwork, The Tesseract (Marvel), World Travel, getting along is hard, light and dark, plans are hard, warring powers, working with one another is hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-01-11 01:18:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12311805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShootingStarSojourner/pseuds/ShootingStarSojourner
Summary: You've spent over a year with Captain Steve Rogers, living in New York. You've both have come to slowly catch up on history you've lacked and keep exploring the world of technology.It was made known to you that Loki, the God of Mischief, you're best friend's betrothed disappeared. With having heard absolutely nothing from him, the last thing you expect is to run into him on one of your deliveries for Director Fury.Now Loki's on Earth and has one goal in mind: to rule it. And he plans on using you to do it, too.You're caught between a rock and a hard place as you are faced to stop someone you considered a friend and being used by him to confront the man you love and others around you.What are the necessary measures needed to take that will save the world, save Loki, and save everyone else?Find my posts about TFT on Tumblrhere





	1. Intruder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WanderingWorldWarrior](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingWorldWarrior/gifts), [Michigangster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michigangster/gifts), [Cata_Lina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cata_Lina/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya, guys!!
> 
> Welcome to part two of this crazy adventure!! Hard to believe I actually made it here!
> 
> This'll be slow-going so please bear with me. The story will surely come together, though! So just hang in there ;)
> 
> Ps. If any past readers of my first part wanted to be gifted this second part, just leave me a message and I'll add you! I want to be able to thank you all any way possible! You have really made writing this a joy and a rewarding adventure! <3
> 
> And now, here we go! :D

You’re slinking out of the unsuspecting building with your new trinket when your S.H.I.E.L.D. phone buzzes in your pack. Quietly, you make your way further out and into the dense forest before you remove your pack in search of the phone. You open the incoming message. There’s an exclamation point signaling its importance.

 

 **FURY** : _Deliver. Mojave Desert. New Mexico. Urgent!_

 

There’s a link to the location you’ve never heard of before.

 

With furrowed eyebrows, you find the order strange and pull up the map. **_How_** _urgent?_ Fury’s always in D.C. And he does _not_ leave S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters if he doesn’t have to. You memorize the place and text Fury back, letting him know you’ll be there soon.

 

Checking your surroundings, you push back the hood of your dark coat. S.H.I.E.L.D. has this thing about their agents wearing black, which you just generally find funny. And while you’ve argued that you’re not an agent and do just fine in your leathers, Carla somehow won the argument. She also took your leathers and redesigned them somehow.

 

Your chest piece now molds better to your frame and where it reaches your hips, there is now extra material flaring out like a skirt. She’s made it easier to lace together and hold better. The pants have been mended of their tears. She’s added material for ease of movement. The boots and bracers remain the same. One of your favorite bits is the added color to the outfit, blue and white trimmings and designs. And then to finish it off, she made you the black, hooded cape with sleeves to wear over your leathers on missions, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s eagle emblem on the back. With a sigh, you had conceded to the argument that it lets you blend in better.

 

You glance around one last time before dialing Steve. Leaning up against a tree, you hold the phone to your ear and wait.

 

“ _Hello?_ ”

 

“Hey, love!” you greet with a wide smile on your lips.

 

There’s a release in his chest. “ _Hey_ ,” Steve says softly, “ _are you alright?_ ”

 

“Yes, I’m fine,” you assure him.

 

“ _Good. Is the job done?_ ”

 

You accidently hesitate. “Umm, no not yet.” You can almost feel him narrowing his eyes at you. “I still have to deliver it,” you quickly continue. “Fury’s asked me to go to New Mexico, though.”

 

Steve’s response is guarded. “ _Why?_ ”

 

You bob your head as you think up an answer. “I don’t know. I think something might be up. He didn’t say.”

 

It takes Steve a moment to reply. “ _That doesn’t sit well with me_.”

 

“It’ll be alright, love. He’s likely just busy doing weird spy stuff down there. I’ll be fine,” you assure him. “But I wanted you to know about the detour since it might take me a few times to figure out how to get there. I’ll call you again before I head back to New York, though.”

 

“ _Fine_ ,” Steve says with a long sigh. “ _Take care. And be **sure** to call me_.”

 

“I will! I’ll be home soon.”

 

“ _Alright. Love you_.”

 

“Love you too!” You hang up the call and put your phone away. Checking that the strange, spherical piece of machinery is still in your coat’s pocket, you launch away to New Mexico.

 

Meanwhile, back in New York, Steve is grabbing his keys and jacket. He has some questions for Agent Carla Castillo.

 

~*~

 

You know you’ve finally found the place when you come upon a massive base evacuating. And you know they’re evacuating from the hurried way the soldiers run to any vehicle or helicopter they can find and pack inside.

 

It’s dark out in the flat, desert land. The only lights come from the concrete compound. Alarms are going off. People shout commands at one another. Everyone’s too distracted to have noticed your arrival.

 

You quickly feel out the place and find Director Nick Fury’s presence deep within the base. The place is built in such a way that you’ll have to go beneath ground level to reach him. But you find a peculiar force encompassing the room he’s in. It tugs at something inside of you, inside of your mind. It’s strong, _powerful_ ….

 

Suddenly, it surges! A tremor runs through the complex and surrounding grounds.

 

This force, this burning power throws your senses back at you, nearly knocking you back. It leaves a strange feeling in your mind, as though you came to close to a fire and still feel the heat of it.

 

You shake your head and focus on your task of getting inside, quickly. With all the distraction, it isn’t hard for you to sneak by, even with as many lights flashing everywhere. You pass a large sign at the entryway reading: **JOINT DARK ENERGY MISSION**. Blending in to the shadows, you make your way into the belly of the building.

 

You trace Fury’s presence deep into the strange complex. Whatever that force is, it’s putting you on edge the closer you grow to it. You hear gunshots and other explosions. You stick to the wall, edging closer.

 

A large door slides open at the end of the winding hallway you’re following. You step inside and find the entrance reveals a wide room with a really tall ceiling. What looks like blue fire roars and consumes the top. The force you felt earlier seems to emanate from those strange flames above.

 

Suddenly a fist slams into your gut, expelling all breath from your lungs, leaving you coughing. Before you can fall to the ground, you’re slammed against the wall, forearm to your throat. You’re practically incapable of rasping in any kind of breath from there. You claw at the arm.

 

A lithe man dressed in all black stares at you with an unreadable expression.

 

You realize this is one of Fury’s special agents, even though you’ve never met him.

 

The eagle emblem on the sleeve of his black jacket over a skintight, black shirt and the quiver of black arrows at his back give him away. But it’s his eyes that trip you up.

 

They glow blue, an unnatural blue. A galaxy of stars swim within them.

 

The agent goes to punch you but you block him with a quick summon of your staff. The agent retaliates faster than you anticipate. You slam the staff into his shoulder, and battle him at uncomfortably close quarters. It’s a fight of speed and agility.

 

“I would suggest something with a little more electricity in it,” a cool, low voice suggests, sending chills down your spine.

 

The agent reaches back for his quiver and pulls out an arrow. And for as much as you’ve studied archery in the past, never have you seen an arrow do what his does. He triggers it so the tip flattens out to generate an electric spark. Realization hits just before he plunges the tip into your ribs.

 

Your body spasms from the electrocution, dropping your staff. You crumple to the floor. Your blood feels fried inside, and your muscles tremble. When you force your head up, your vision swims. After pulling the arrow out of your side, you have to will your mind to clear up.

 

Laughter floats about the room. It belongs to _him_.

 

Struggling to not vomit your insides, you quickly pull yourself onto your knees.

 

“Who _are_ you?” Director Fury asks.

 

The answer that follows confirms what your mind hasn’t been willing to admit yet.

 

“I am Loki of Asgard,” the Emerald Prince declares, “and I am burdened with glorious purpose.”

 

Your eyes finally settle on the royal figure.

 

There he stands, wearing his dark green and black regalia as usual. Dark hair. Pale face. But he holds a strange scepter in his hand. It’s gold with a split prong at the end where a glowing blue jewel sits. It’s the same blue of the agent’s eyes, and the closer you look, it’s the same blue in Loki’s eyes.

 

“Loki?” another man questions. “Brother of Thor?”

 

Your eyes dart to the balding man wearing a checkered shirt. He stares at the prince in a mixture of awe and confusion.

 

The dark look that crosses the prince’s features has nearly no rival as he turns to face the man in question. He lifts the golden scepter and places its sharp point at the man’s chest. A stream of glowing blue leaves the tip and runs up the man’s neck into his eyes, turning them black. And in the next second, they’re glowing blue.

 

Loki returns his attention to Fury.

 

“We have no quarrel with your people,” Director Fury claims.

 

You try pushing yourself up but your legs shake too hard. Your ribs burn, and your breathing is heavily labored.

 

“An ant has no quarrel with a boot, nor does prey understand the motives of the hunter,” the prince answers. “Tell me, which do you think you are? Or is it that unclear?”

 

It’s the sinister tone in which he speaks that brings you to call out. “Loki?”

 

An aloof expression greets you as his strange eyes search you. “Healer,” the Emerald Prince acknowledges coolly.

 

 _So you **do** know who I am_.

 

“Wait,” Fury butts in with a point of his finger, “you two know each other?”

 

You’re still taking in this visage of your friend’s prince. The man who’s been missing for a year, who left your best friend, who disappeared right before their wedding. “What are you doing here?” you whisper in disbelief. Grabbing your staff again, you gingerly pull yourself onto your feet, ignoring how your mind swims. Your spare hand clutches your burning side, trying to keep your breathing steady. “Where have you been?”

 

You limp closer. You’re trying so hard to believe that this is still somehow the man you and your friend know. Something’s just gone wrong. Terribly wrong.

 

The scepter glows at Loki’s side. “I’ve been on a grand journey,” the Emerald Prince answers with a wicked smile on his lips. “Seen sights you cannot imagine. Learned things you will never comprehend.”

 

You still can’t believe this. You don’t understand how this even came about. “But… but what about… Tom?”

 

It’s like you’ve stabbed an open wound. A battle of wills crosses his features. His mind rages against itself. And for a split second, he shows the one thing you recognize best: emotion. It’s all still there. Buried.

 

Loki’s new mind wins as he once more watches you with his piercing blue eyes. There’s a haunted edge to his features as he faces you. “You would not understand, Healer.”

 

You’re almost within reach of him.

 

“And you shall not get in my way.” He holds up the strange scepter, and touches your chest.

 

A cry escapes your lips, dropping your staff which quickly disappears. Your body shudders as the stream of blue crawls to your eyes. As it takes over your mind, you unleash a wave of light. But instead of fixing the damage done within the room the way it should’ve, it further corrupts the already unstable environment.

 

That strange blue galaxy finally settles in your eyes, and you see the heavens above, the stars in orbit, and the worlds that fill space. And then, your world goes dark.

 

Loki catches your prone form as Director Fury watches helplessly. The prince hands you off to one of the guards whose blue eyes show that he’s under Loki’s command. Loki smiles upon Fury’s displeased demeanor. “As you can see, I come with glad tidings,” the prince informs Fury, “of a world made free.”

 

“Free from what?”

 

“Freedom,” Loki explains. “Freedom is life’s great lie. Once you accept that, in your heart, you will know peace.” A smile stretches across the prince’s lips.

 

“Yeah, you say ‘peace’,” Fury retorts, “but I kind of think you mean the other thing.” His dark eye flashes in a challenge.

 

The blue energy source above grows and swells, swirling as its power expands.

 

Agent Barton, the archer, assesses the situation and approaches the prince. “Sir,” he calls, “Director Fury is stalling. This place is about to blow.”

 

Loki lets his eyes take in the blue mass above, hardly perturbed.

 

“It’ll drop a hundred feet of rock on us,” Barton continues, before he meets Fury’s eye. “He means to bury us.”

 

“Like the Pharaoh’s of old,” Fury promises.

 

You shuffle in the arms of the guard. Something within the force of above whispers for you to wake.

 

“The portal is about to collapse on itself,” the balding man, Scientist Erik Selvig, tells Loki as he reads the data on his computer. “You’ve got two minutes before it goes critical.”

 

“Well then,” Loki states, glancing at Barton.

 

The agent draws his pistol and shoots Fury in the chest, knocking him back. Barton takes the silver case in which the Tesseract nestles from where Fury dropped it.

 

Loki leads the way out. Erik, Barton, and the other S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel follow with you in tow. Barton hands over the case to Erik to see to. He takes the lead with his confident stride as they enter a garage.

 

You’re shuffling more and more now, mutters leaving your mouth. Your eyes are slowly opening. There’s a part of your power that wants to keep you sleeping. But this new wave of energy keeps pulling at you, wanting to wake you. You hear its call.

 

“I need these vehicles,” Barton states as he passes by Agent Maria Hill.

 

At first she lets the group pass, but Loki causes her a doubletake. She stops to watch as he climbs into the back of the vehicle. You’re settled at his side. “Who’s that?” Hill questions.

 

“They didn’t tell me,” Barton answers as he and Selvig head for the front seats.

 

Agent Hill doesn’t reply and starts to head out.

 

Loki places a hand at your forehead and summons the rest of you out of your strange sleep.

 

You’re suddenly wide awake, with the strange glow of the galaxy in your eyes. You stare at the prince, and the prince watches you in turn.

 

“Your job is to protect me, Healer,” Loki tells you.

 

“Very well,” you reply.

 

The crackling of a radio catches everyone’s attention.

 

“Hill! Do you copy?” comes Fury’s voice.

 

Your eyes and Loki’s spot the radio in Agent Hill’s hand.

 

“Barton has turned!”

 

Barton draws his pistol and shoots Hill, who quickly ducks behind a nearby wall. Barton climbs into the truck and gets it in gear.

 

You see the female agent pulling out her pistol and throw up a shield. Her bullets easily ricochet off. A few come dangerously close to striking her.

 

Barton revs the engine and moves the vehicle out onto the pathway, racing to get out.

 

You call off the shield and watch as Agent Hill climbs into another vehicle to commence her chase. She catches up quickly. Next to you, Loki draws to the edge and holds up the scepter. You watch calmly as he sends a blast of blue energy at the car.

 

It tears a hole into the metal, causing the car to crash into the concrete wall of the tunnel.

 

Loki settles down again, a twisted smirk on his face.

 

Your braid blows in the wind of the whirring vehicle. “So what is that thing?” you ask the prince.

 

“A scepter that holds great power,” Loki replies.

 

“Yeah, caught that. How’d you get it?”

 

Agent Hill approaches in a new vehicle. She pulls up next to your truck, and with a slam of her breaks, maneuvers herself in front of us. The trucks face nose to nose with Barton still pressing forward.

 

“It was gifted to me,” Loki says and you both turn to face the front.

 

Barton sticks a hand out and shoots at Hill.

 

“Must’ve come from a generous benefactor,” you note. With a twitch of your hand, you summon small shields to deflect the bullets coming from Hill. You’re impressed she shot through her own windshield.

 

“Do you intend to end your smarting off anytime soon?” Loki inquires.

 

You shrug. “Doubt it,” you retort with a sly grin.

 

A sudden wave of power corrupts the integrity of the building from the implosion of the blue energy. A tremor runs through the area for miles around.

 

“Get us out of here, Healer,” Loki instructs.

 

“Yes, sir.” You send up a shield that divides the two cars and maneuver them apart.

 

Hill is left to rectify her direction once more.

 

You press your hands onto the vehicle you’re in and send your light into it. You touch the engine and help is speed by the collapsing walls and ceilings. You let Barton control the wheel, so you can concentrate on deflecting debris from above.

 

Finally, the road opens up, and the vehicles comes out into the open night. When you glance back, you notice how Hill just barely makes it to the edge before the rest of the rubble collapses upon her vehicle. Barton takes a turn and starts driving away from the complex.

 

A helicopter rises above, it’s wings chopping the desert air. Director Fury watches out of the side. He sees you. He sees the glow in your eyes. Then he turns his eyes onto the prince.

 

Loki rises and lifts his scepter. He sends a mighty blast into the air and strikes the helicopter. It catches fire and begins its detrimental descent back to the ground.

 

You both watch its crash as Barton drives away into the night. You and Loki settle down in the bed of the truck once more. “So,” you ask Loki, “where to now?”

 

“I know a place we can set up,” Barton replies, calling back through the truck window.

 

“Get us there then,” Loki states.

 

Suddenly a strange sound comes from your back. Something rings within your pack. You reach back and pull out a phone.

 

Loki quickly takes the device and destroys it, ridding the pieces on the ground. “You won’t be needing that,” he tells you simply. “What other devices do you carry?”

 

You pull out the second phone and the spherical machinery that you just picked up.

 

“We need that to help stabilize anything we use to set the Tesseract within,” Erik quickly says as he points to the strange device you brought back.

 

Loki hands it to the scientist to keep. “See to it that you use it properly.” After that, he lifts up the second phone, the one Steve gave you. He watches how you stare at it. “There is no room for sentimentality here.” He destroys that phone as well and throws the pieces over the side of the truck.

 

You sit and stare out into the night, trying to remember why a phone was so important to have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?
> 
> Happy to have gotten this started ^_^


	2. Disturbing Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!!
> 
> Please forgive me for taking so long to post this chapter. I've been so busy with school but then life got busy as well. It took me longer to piece this chapter together than normal. So, I apologize for that, but I hope it still flows well!

 

 “ _Steve!_ ”

 

Hands pounds into the punching bag.

 

“ _Captain Rogers_.”

 

They pummel the bag, driven with great force.

 

“ _My love_.”

 

Laughter floods his mind, that of a woman’s – two, in fact – bringing tension to his already tight muscles.

 

Images finally tear through the fog of fear and worry. He sees you flee in a torn, blue dress as a creature of darkness pursues. He trembles as he sees the ocean rising to meet him. Blasts deafen his ears. Blue energies illuminate gray rooms.

 

Steve’s jabbing through every memory and nightmare that plagues his mind almost faster than humanly possible.

 

He sees you shoot into the sky, light trailing all around you. He watches Bucky fall to his death, crying out for aid. He hears Peggy’s last words, the compass in mind.

 

He pounds, pounds.

 

Blue energy.

 

Pounds, pounds, _pounds_.

 

Water, cold as ice, slams into him, glass cutting his face, suffocating.

 

Pounds, pounds, pounds, POUNDS!

 

“ _Steve!_ ”

 

With a shout, the captain blasts the punching bag off its chain, slamming into the far wall.

 

~*~

 

With a yell, you fly into a sitting position, abruptly rousing from your sleep. Sweat runs down your neck with every gasping breath you take. The strange blue in your eyes won’t let the visions fade, the nightmares, the dreams, the memories, hardly any your own.

 

You shake your head, trying to clear your mind of the new things that plague it. Rising from the little nook you found to hide away from the crowd you’re now tied to, you rub your eyes and walk off the thoughts. Wandering through the building, you manage to find a bathroom to wash your face in. The water is refreshing.

 

With hands on the sink, you dare to glance at yourself in the mirror. You don’t look anymore haggard than you know is common. The electric blue that swims in your eyes is unnerving. You peer closer to see if you can really _see_ into the galaxy that floats there.

 

Suddenly you find yourself back on your home planet, lying on the roof of an exquisite manor. You’re gazing up at the stars with a man you once knew. You tell him of the places you’ve been and of the many more places you wish to discover. Then you’re on the roof of a city building watching fireworks light up the dark sky. The broad-shouldered man whispers stories in your ear.

 

Then the stars shift, and swirl, and you relive landing on each and every place you’ve ever traveled to. You see people speed through your life. You see worlds. You see the stars. You see light and dark always present in one form or another. You see it all.

 

You pull your eyes from the mirror and force the images from your mind. They leave an uncomfortable ache in your head. After another splash of water, you wander down to the underground part of the base. When Barton brought everyone here, you took to wondering just how many bases Fury has hidden throughout the country, and how many are even in function. This one had long been abandoned so it allowed for a perfect hiding place.

 

“I thought you went to go sleep,” Dr. Eric Selvig notes as you pass by his makeshift lab.

 

“Sleep evades me,” you answer as you lean on the post that holds up the plastic dividers.

 

“Really?” He taps away on a computer as he reads the reactions the Tesseract creates from its perch in the silver contraptions and wires its connected to. “Does this,” he points to the glowing cube, “not show you the acute intricacies of the universe?”

 

You give the scientist a wry smile. “I’ve already seen plenty of it’s intricacies,” you inform him simply.

 

Eric turns his blue-filled eyes onto your face. They analyze you the way they’re used to reading charts and data. “How do you know the Norse Trickster God, Loki?” he inquires.

 

“We ran around the same crowds some time back.”

 

The information doesn’t entirely startle him. It looks as though he wants to say something more but something on his computer distracts him.

 

“Be sure to get some rest where you can, Doctor,” you tell him and push off the post. You meander to where Agent Clint Barton keeps guard. You take a seat next to him.

 

“Morning,” he greets. His enlightened, blue eyes constantly scan the area.

 

“Is it really that early?” you ask, rubbing your eyes.

 

“The sun is on the rise.”

 

“Have you gotten any sleep?”

 

He gives a short shake of his head. “I have a feeling I’ll be no better off than you were.”

 

You nod and watch the S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel walk around, many of which help the scientist. Your fingers fiddle with the fox pendant at your neck that you can’t quite recall how you procured. “I have a peculiar question for you, if you don’t mind my asking. It’s about our current state,” you tell him.

 

“Go ahead,” he says, an apparent curiosity on his face.

 

“Do you find yourself struggling to recall… certain memories… or pieces of information that you feel you should know… but can’t quite bring to mind?”

 

“Is this what you thought about instead of sleeping?”

 

You chuckle, shaking your head. “No, but I feel that the scepter… the Tesseract, really… has expanded my mind to see so much… in exchange for things that I once held.” You meet his strange eyes and try to read his passive face. “I guess really what I’m asking is, am I the only one this is happening to?”

 

Clint lets out a breath through his nose as he lets his eyes roam the room. “No, it isn’t,” he finally answers.

 

~*~

 

Steve breathes hard, sweat running down his face. He works his hands to ease the sting of the punches as well as the tension in his back. After wiping his face on a rag, he goes to pick up the broken punching back. He dumps it on the pile then goes to grab a new bag. He hooks it on as he mentally prepares for the next onslaught.

 

Steve’s heart aches. He doesn’t understand why he can’t feel your presence anymore. It just cut off. Ended. Why does it feel like you are lost to him? He doesn’t know where you are or what has happened, and he doesn’t know what to do.

 

So he beats the punching bag. It’s the only thing his body knows to do right now.

 

“Trouble sleeping?”

 

Steve lowers his hands, panting. He’s afraid of what will happen if the director comes closer, so he speaks. “I slept for seventy years, sir,” Steve informs him. “I think I’ve had my fill.”

 

Director Nick Fury approaches the soldier. “Steve-”

 

Steve grabs a fistful of Nick’s coat and yanks him close, bringing them nose to nose. “ _Where. **Is**. She?_ ” Steve growls.

 

Nick waits a heartbeat before answering. “I don’t know,” he says carefully.

 

Steve’s fists tighten around the bunched material, anger defining his strong features. “This wasn’t supposed to happen, Nick. She wasn’t supposed to get caught up in your webs. And now she is-”

 

“Not dead, Cap,” Nick inserts.

 

Everything in Steve’s body freezes, processing the director’s words. “She’s not dead?”

 

“She’s certainly not dead. But she _was_ taken away, along with several of my other agents. And that’s why I’m here. I need your help, Cap.”

 

Steve’s mind slowly begins working again, putting information where it goes. The tension in his shoulders eases as Steve’s breaths steady and regains control of himself.

 

Nick’s eye drops to Steve’s hands. “Would you mind letting me go, Cap?” he asks.

 

Steve releases Nick’s coat and takes a step back. He runs relieved fingers through his disheveled blond hair. “What happened?” Steve demands.

 

The director adjusts his collar then holds out a folder to the soldier. He lets Steve take it and look it over.

 

It’s like his past is dying to reclaim Steve. As he lays eyes upon the very thing that originally destroyed his life, he has to work to keep his growing fear and anger down. “That’s HYDRA’s secret weapon,” Steve states, trying to keep from sounding appalled. “I put that in the ocean.”

 

“And Howard Stark fished it out when he looked for you,” Nick adds.

 

“Why were you messing with it?” Steve asks, jaw tight, instead of just asking why. Because, honestly, Steve doesn’t understand why _anyone_ would fish that damned thing back out.

 

“He thought what we think today, the Tesseract could be the key to unlimited, sustainable energy. And _that_ is something the world sorely needs.”

 

 _Enough to put people in danger again?_ The blue energy he speaks of haunts Steve’s thoughts. “Who took it? Who took them?”

 

“He’s called Loki. He’s not from around here.”

 

This revelatory answer startles Steve out of his disturbed ruminations. He meets Nick’s eye with confused inquisition. “ _Loki_?” Steve pronounces carefully.

 

“That’s right. A name and person your girl seemed to have known already. Do _you_ know the name, Cap?” Nick asks pointedly.

 

Steve shakes his head and reviews the folder in his hands. It's true that he has nothing to give on the name other than knowing it. From what he knows of your relationship to the strange outsiders, you are on friendly terms with the Asgardians. Though upon laying eyes on the glowing cube once more, Steve very well knows that things can go wrong. With a concluding breath, Steve looks up at Nick and gives a firm nod.

 

“The world has gotten even stranger than you’ve already experienced,” Nick states.

 

“At this point,” Steve says, “I doubt anything would surprise me.” You’ve been a great contributor to that.

 

“Ten bucks says I can prove you wrong.”

 

“I’ll take you up on that.”

 

“Come,” Nick continues with a lifted hand, “let’s review the debriefing package.”

 

Steve joins the director on the way towards the door.

 

“But first, anything you can tell us on the Tesseract that we ought to know?”

 

With great conviction in his voice, Steve answers firmly, “You should have left it in the ocean.”

 

~*~

 

A pale woman with wine red hair sits feet and hands strapped to a wooden chair before three men. There’s a red bruise on her cheek from where one has backhanded her. She’s dressed in a flirtatiously short, black dress playing coy and toying with the Russians.

 

One of the men teeters her chair back on two legs as their leader, Luchkov, grabs some pliers off a table. As he approaches the woman, he wrangles her mouth open.

 

And as the woman eyes the pliers, a cellphone ring disrupts the cool air of the abandoned room.

 

All eyes look to the tiny contraption that disrupts the goings-on as the third man picks up the phone and answers it. He then looks to Luchkov and holds up the phone. “Iz for you,” he says with a heavy accent.

 

With a huff, Luchkov sets the pliers down and snatches the stupid cellphone from his crony. The chair is returned to its proper position, allowing the red woman to breathe with ease again. “Who the hell-”

 

Suddenly even Natasha can hear the familiar voice come through the tiny speaker. “ _You’re at 114 Solenski Plaza, third floor_ ,” Coulson relays. “ _We have an F22 exactly eight miles out. Put the woman on the phone, or I will blow up the block before you can make the lobby_.”

 

Luchkov turns a pissed off glance towards the woman before he places the phone at her ear.

 

Natasha shrugs it onto her shoulder.

 

“ _We need you to come in_ ,” Coulson tells her.

 

“Are you kidding me? I’m working,” she retorts.

 

“ _This takes precedence_.”

 

“I’m in the middle of an interrogation. This moron is giving me everything.”

 

Luchkov begins to oppose but is cut off by Natasha’s look. “Look,” she continues, “you can’t pull me out-”

 

“ _Natasha_ ,” Coulson starts, “ _Barton’s been compromised_.”

 

The red woman’s pale face grows stone cold. “Let me put you on hold,” she says with edge in her voice.

 

Luchkov takes the phone from her ear. In the same instant, Natasha knocks his foot out from him and headbutts the man. Quick as a cat, she leaps to her feet, her chest and hands still tied to the chair. She uses the wooden legs to slam the second man back then rolls over to the third. She ducks his jab, slams the leg of the chair into his foot, and butts him with her head.

 

Luchkov grabs the chair. Natasha hauls him forward then throws herself back on him, the wooden chair shattering upon impact. She leaps up and quickly straddles the second man. With a quick set of punches, she fells the guy. She grabs an iron chain then drags Luchkov to the edge of the precipice she was just teetering on. After attaching him to the chain, she lets the gravity do its job as she sends him over the edge.

 

Natasha picks the phone back up along with her black heels. “Where’s Barton now?” she questions.

 

“ _We don’t know_ ,” Coulson tells her.

 

“But he’s alive.”

 

“ _We believe so. I’ll brief you on everything when you arrive. Get to Washington. It’s time that you meet the Captain_.”

 

~*~

 

An electrifying jolt sends a shiver down your spine.

 

“Someone’s here,” you alert Clint and stand up. Your golden staff appears in your hand.

 

“How many?” he asks, already drawing his bow as he jumps to his feet.

 

You move towards the entrance. “Five.”

 

“Armed?”

 

“Swords and spears.”

 

For a second, Clint looks confused as he signals for others to join him.

 

“They’re Asgardians,” you explain. “And I imagine that they’re here for Loki.”

 

He nods and looks to Selvig. “Stay put, Doctor,” he orders. “We’ll be back in a few.”

 

You and Clint lead the group up the building to the outside. Immediately upon exiting, you send a wave of light that propels the five warriors back. It’s strange seeing them on Earth’s soil, especially under the bright light of the morning sun here.

 

There’s whispering among them as they lay eyes on you. Some seem to recognize you, but you don’t particularly recognize any of them. “We’re not here for you,” the head of the group informs you. “The Allmother sent us.”

 

There’s a sting in your mind as your thoughts move their words around. “Doesn’t matter,” you tell them, twirling your staff.

 

Three lower their spears at you and the other two lift their swords.

 

You leap into the air and land behind the cluster, gaining the attention of three. You hear gunshots as the other two warriors move forward. You catch two spear ends with your staff before kicking your heel into the third man. You slam the spears to ground and drive the other end of your staff into the warrior’s cheek, knocking him to the dirt below.

 

Slinging around, you come face-to-face with the taller of the men with only your staff and his spear in between your bodies. You wedge the staff up and drive a knee into the soft spot of his thigh. You elbow his throat then slam the butt of the staff into his gut.

 

An arrow whistles past and strikes true into the heart of the other spearman who just stood up. After two more arrows find him, he drops to the floor.

 

You immediately engage in parrying the charging sword. You press on him harder than he does on you. You finally tweak his sword and step inside his guard. The next thing is sending him crumpling to the ground after a swift jam to the temple.

 

Gunshots alert you to the proximity of the other spearman. You drop your staff and whirl around to catch the spear aiming for your back. In the same moment, an arrow strikes his shoulder blade. You throw his feet back then drive his own spear’s shaft into his windpipe, forever silencing him as he falls to your feet.

 

After cleaning off the blood, you step away from the bodies and call off your weapon.

 

Loki, Agent Barton, and the group of S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel approach the five men.

 

“What shall we do with them, sir?” Barton asks the prince.

 

“Burn them.”

 

~*~

 

Steve works the tape off his hands, bids farewell to Richie the owner of the gym, and follows Director Fury outside into the buzz of the city. The morning is bright and cool, and the breeze helps clear the mind.

 

Leaning against a black vehicle rests Carla in her black slacks and blazer with a white blouse underneath. Her brown hair falls straight past her shoulders, and the red of her lips mark clearly her serious features. At her feet lies a stuffed duffel bag.

 

“Carla?” Steve inquires.

 

“Agent Castillo,” Fury greets.

 

“What are you doing here?” Steve continues.

 

“I went ahead and packed everything for your trip,” she answers, nodding to the bag. “Clothing and essentials, both for you and your girl.”

 

The reminder of your absence still stings Steve’s heart. “How did you know I would go?” he asks tremulously.

 

Carla comes closer, sympathy in her caramel eyes. “You have to bring her back,” Carla insists. “She needs you right now. Be strong for her.”

 

Steve breathes deeply and focuses his mind on her words. He meets her eyes and asks, “Will you be coming with us?”

 

Carla shakes her head. “I’ll be staying here in New York. If you don’t mind, I’ll camp out at your apartment in case she appears there. She’ll need to know how to find you.”

 

Steve raises a questioning eyebrow at Fury.

 

“Like I said, Cap, you’re in for a few surprises,” Director Fury replies. “Now if you don’t mind, we need to head out.”

 

“Right,” Steve concludes, goes to pick up the duffel bag and shoulders it.

 

“Your shield is already in the trunk. Use it well,” Carla states, “and bring her back.”

 

Steve takes her extended hand and seals the promise to do just as she says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if the action is clunky, I feel like it is.
> 
> Also, if you haven't already picked up on this, we are taking the Avengers plot and running some detours on it lol
> 
> Bear with me as I slowly build this story, it will come about! I promise. =)
> 
> Love you all!


	3. Warnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a long chapter. Lot's going on. Have fun!

 

Steve’s footsteps feel heavy on the pavement as he makes his way over to the nursing home he visited the last time he came here. He hasn’t been in Washington D.C. since you told him to visit Peggy. And while the visit went well, Steve finds it odd that he wishes to seek her counsel for these strange things that are happening.

 

He digs his hands into his jean's pockets. It’s possible that it’s because she understands. She’s experienced strange. She knows his story. And she was always good about giving Steve a firm push when he needed it.

 

It’s not long before he finds himself being guided to Peggy’s suite. He gives a gentle knock at the blue door.

 

“Come in,” a charming, British voice calls from inside.

 

Steve opens the door and enters the cozy parlor room. A gasp of happy surprise greets him.

 

“Steve!” Peggy welcomes. “Oh, how good to see you!” She takes in his solemn appearance. He wears a checkered-blue shirt with a brown leather jacket worn over. For such casual wear, Peggy still thinks him quite handsome. Too much so for his own good. It only makes her smile all the more at the young man.

 

For the slightest second, Steve gazes upon the elderly woman. He traces her grayed hair that’s elegantly pinned at her neck, follows the creases of her wizened face, but rests in noting that her eyes are still the intelligent gems he remembers them to be. “Hey, Peggy,” Steve greets softly, a weight sloughing off his shoulders.

 

Peggy sizes him up and holds out a hand to him. “You’ve come with something on your heart,” she tells him, a smile still on her old lips. “I know. I can see it on your face. Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you look like when you worry too much.”

 

To his credit, Steve lets out a chuckle and steps closer. He takes the seat beside Peggy and holds her wrinkled hand in his.

 

“What worries your heart, Steve?” Peggy asks, her lovely eyes full of care and curiosity.

 

Overwhelmed by it all, Steve simply begins talking, explaining everything as best he can. Given that there’s strange and sensitive information in the mix, he adjusts where he needs. He tells her the situation, tells her his troubles, and pours out his heart.

 

“You were never one for the normal, were you, Steve?” Peggy teases lightly.

 

Once more, Steve chuckles. “At this rate, it would seem not,” he admits. He tries to read her keen eyes. “So?”

 

“Do you think she’s really gone?”

 

Steve shakes his head after a moment of thought.

 

“What do your instincts say?”

 

He lets out a breath through his nose. “She’s somewhere. I just can’t reach her…. But I will. Something is hiding her, but I will find her.”

 

Peggy smiles knowingly. “Then I believe you already have your answer,” she says. “No need to ask me.”

 

Steve smiles in return, his face weary. “It helps to have your support.”

 

Peggy takes his hand once more and gives it a good squeeze. “She must be quite the lady to have stolen your heart so. You’ll have to bring her around sometime. I’d love to meet the woman that can take your dramatics.”

 

Amongst rolling his eyes, Steve laughs. “She has heart and spirit, and is more trouble than it’s worth sometimes.”

 

“Mm, you’re favorite,” Peggy notes with a chuckle. “Will you stay for a cup of tea?”

 

Steve shakes his head sadly. “No, I must be off. I have things to see to.” He stands and gives Peggy’s hand a quick peck. “I’ll bring her when I have her back.” And with a wave, Steve takes his leave.

 

~*~

 

You’re still lingering at the cremation site. You stayed around to make sure that no one could see the smoke rising. But there was something else that kept you around.

 

You recall Asgardian funerals. They do not bury their dead but rather set up pyres for them. A flaming arrow is cast upon their bodies, and their spirits rise with the fire. And while the prince gave the order bluntly – a task to be done and seen to – he gave it in such a way that still lines up with the Asgardian norms.

 

You made sure to give the warriors a proper sending off, insisting that everyone else be respectful of the rite. Loki didn’t say anything when you asked Clint to send one of his arrows to start the fires. The prince didn’t stay to see the whole ritual through, but something about him seemed at ease that you did it the right way.

 

Now you watch as the embers start to go out. You stand up from your perch and kneel at the ashes. After creating a wide bowl with your light, you scoop the ashes into it. Then we great care, you leap into the air, and there you spread the ashes. You pay honor to their spirits.

 

Eventually you return to the base, bowl gone, ashes carried away in the wind.

 

“Healer,” Loki calls.

 

His voice startles you out of your thoughts. You step away from the entrance and walk over to the prince.

 

In the day’s light, Loki’s face looks paler than before. Dark circles color his eyes, and his sharp cheekbones are further marked by the shallowness of his cheeks. The dry air fiddle with his wild, black hair. The golden scepter hangs in his hand as you’ve become used to seeing. Yet as his blue energy-filled eyes rove over you, you can feel how he reads your actions from the past hour.

 

“Loki,” you respond.

 

He’s searching for words. He’s measuring your worth. There might be some good in having you around. For you are someone who knows him and where he comes from. Even under his command, the remnant of who you are still stands. Admirable – a character that holds.

 

“Be sure to keep guard of the surrounding areas,” the prince finally states. “Moving would slow progress down.”

 

You nod. “I’ll keep us hidden. Though if you could spare a warding spell, it would help.”

 

“Done.”

 

You summon light to your hand and watch as Loki places his magic within it, turning the gold into an emerald green. There’s a peculiar blue hue that permeates its essence. You take the light and send it out, far out. You create a wide perimeter around the base and apartments and general area that would keep humans away.

 

They will feel the need walk away if they come near the border. Unless someone magically appears inside, you won’t have to worry about unwanted visitors. The magic hides your light from the seeing eye.

 

“There,” you tell him. “I’ll know if anyone comes near.”

 

“Good. Back to work,” the prince states and walks away.

 

~*~

 

Director Nick Fury stands with Agent Natasha Romanoff and Agent Phil Coulson as Steve enters the room. He carries his presence once more. His strides are sure and determined. He knows who he is.

 

“Captain,” Nick calls, “allow me to introduce you to Agent Romanoff and Agent Coulson.”

 

Steve extends a hand and shakes theirs. “Pleasure,” he greets with a curt nod.

 

“Captain America, it’s-it’s an _honor_ to finally meet you,” Phil gushes with a broad smile.

 

Steve loosens up, giving him a conscientious smile. “Steve,” he corrects politely. “I wish we were meeting under different circumstances.”

 

“Ah, yes,” Phil says, withholding a grimace. “I’m sorry for what’s happened. For you both.”

 

Steve’s blue eyes move to Natasha, a question within them.

 

“Captain Rogers,” she initially greets with a slight incline of her head. “A fellow agent and comrade of mine was also taken. I’m here to get him back at any cost.”

 

“Old friends or long history?”

 

The woman has striking red hair, and she gives a guarded smile. “Long history,” she simply answers. She wears a cat-like charm the way she wears her tight, black outfit – like a second skin. Everything she does, and exposes, is calculated and measured.

 

Steve finds her presence elusive, but it lets him know what kind of attention he needs to devote to the feminine agent.

 

Her straight hair swings as she turns back to the other two men. “Now, gentlemen,” she declares, “I know you have some important matters to attend to, so if you don’t mind, I will take the Captain from here.”

 

And before any of the men could say anything, Natasha loops her arm in Steve’s and leads him away, hips swaying with authority. “What do you know of the situation, Captain?” Natasha asks Steve as they walk down a long hall.

 

“Not enough, it feels like,” he answers. “What do you know?”

 

“From what I’ve heard, they’re under a mind-controlling spell.”

 

“ _What?_ ”

 

Natasha nods, her regal features strict and closed-off. She opens a door and leads the captain inside. There are several tables set up with maps and other data-filled papers spread out upon them. “I had hoped to recruit you, Captain. I think if we track them down, we can take a stealthier route by finding them and bringing them back. That would leave us with fewer problems to deal with.”

 

Steve rustles his hair before setting his hands on his hips. While he was not ready to hear something like that, some things are starting to make more sense about the situation. He wonders if this is part of the reason why he can no longer feel your presence, his connection to you that you forged long ago with him. This information feeds his urge to want to find you.

 

“Where were they last seen?” Steve asks.

 

Natasha pulls out a map from the stack. She searches before pointing to the right spot. “Fury was here at this base which is where they escaped from. They headed west before Fury lost track of them.”

 

“They had to have stopped by morning. They wouldn’t want to be spotted. How far could they have gotten in that time?”

 

Natasha eyes the map and does the math. She moves her hand to show the general area of where they might be.

 

“Well if they haven’t moved, they’re likely still there.” Steve glances up at the woman. “How were you planning on going about this? Did Fury order this?”

 

“Fury and Coulson are busy arguing over whether Stark needs to be brought into this or not,” Natasha states.

 

A shadow crosses Steve’s face. His camaraderie with Tony Stark was short lived. Once Stark decided to scrap his original tower project to just recreate it offset most of Steve’s well wishes towards him. Steve toys with his options. “So, _if_ we did this, how would we do it?” he asks.

 

Natasha takes this as a good sign. “We take the Quinjet, find them, take them, and come back. Stealth and surprise is on our side. They don’t know we’re coming, and therefore, won’t suspect.”

 

“That’s not necessarily a given.”

 

“We just need to get close enough to sneak in. We’re just getting two people. Get them, get in, and get out.”

 

“And they will just _comply_?” Steve challenges.

 

“We can knock them out. A mind can only be controlled if it’s awake.”

 

Steve has his doubts about that. But he understands her urgency. He wants you out of the situation as much as she wants her companion out. But this is also a brash jump. Yet if Fury brings Stark into this, the whole thing will just become unstable.

 

Honestly, it’s worth a shot. Not much can be lost with just the two of them going in. At worse, they’ll get captured, which just means more work for Fury; and at best, they get you two out.

 

Steve let’s out a sigh as he rests his fists on the table. “Alright. We’ll try it. But here’s what we’ll do.”

 

Natasha is an avid listener as the captain works out the plan.

 

~*~

 

At first you are just staring at the blue of that strange energy cube, but now you find yourself somewhere else. You no longer see blue but gold, a whole city of gold.

 

It’s beautiful. It’s grand. And it’s a place you could never fit into.

 

You step across the illuminated bridge of color and light. A breeze teases your hair, and with it, it brings a voice.

 

“ _Loki… alive_ …”

 

You look around but only feel the wind.

 

“ _Where?_ ”

 

You stop in your tracks, your mind alert. You know _that_ voice. It’s… familiar, old… _known_.

 

A searing sting brands your mind.

 

“… _upon… Midgard_ …”

 

Your eyes search the land. _No, no. Where’s the other voice?_ You’re running down the bridge. The city blurs before you. _No, no! Where is **she**? Where **are** they?_

 

“… _something happened_ …”

 

You gasp, hearing her again. You stop to look everywhere around you.

 

But not a single soul fills the golden world. No one is around. And it’s starting to melt away.

 

_No, no, no! **Wait!**_

 

“… _I have to go_ …”

 

Like taking a blade to the chest, a pain explodes in your mind that sends you somewhere else. The wind picks up and brings on the cloak of darkness. You’re no longer surrounded by gold but by black. Everything is dark. A flash of red. A cache of blue. Hurried footsteps.

 

“ _We should get there just after nightfall_ ,” a woman says.

 

You run through the darkness. You’re trying to clear the blur of your mind. You want to see these people. Who are they? Where are they? You want to _know_!

 

“ _Are you sure about this?_ ”

 

You gasp. It’s a man’s voice. Another that you know. It burns your mind to think on it. But you keep running forward, trying to find it, _them_.

 

“ _Do you want her back?_ ”

 

“ ** _Yes_**.”

 

“ _Let’s go then_.”

 

 _They’re coming_ , you realize. **_He’s_** _coming. He’s coming for... m_ -

 

Suddenly, blue light blinds your mind. And you scream yourself awake, eyes opening in fright.

 

“Healer!”

 

You gasp and let your eyes focus. Your chest rises and falls painfully fast. Sweat beads your brow as though you’ve gone through an extraneous event. Noise and sound slowly start filtering in, as well as life and color and movement.

 

Clint stands before you, grasping your wrists. His glowing blue eyes watch you closely. He holds you firmly. He’s waiting for you to settle and explain what’s going on.

 

You look around, eyes searching, ears tuning in. You’re looking for them… those voices, those people that you… know. A nasty stab pierces the front of your mind again, and you let out a cry.

 

“What did you see?” Clint asks.

 

“What do you mean?” you ask instead of answering.

 

“You fell asleep. You were dreaming.” Yet his brow rises as he says it. He wants you to challenge his statement. He wants to know what happened.

 

You tug your hands out of his grip then run your fingers through the top of your hair. You scratch your scalp as a sense of comfort, believing that you’ll make the dreadful ache in your head go away.

 

“Someone’s coming,” you tell him. “A woman. A man. I think from S.H.I.E.L.D. They’re coming.” There’s someone else that’s coming but your mind stings with every attempt you make at remembering. Your head hurts so much.

 

Clint sends some orders to the other men, and then the next thing you know is the cup of water he holds out to you. “Drink up,” he orders gently.

 

You practically down the glass in one go. As the water trails down your throat, you feel yourself bettering and renewing. The pain in your mind eases. The slight tremors go away. The fogginess clears. “Thanks,” you murmur. You rub the sleep out of your eyes.

 

“Are you sure someone’s coming?” Clint questions.

 

You nod, setting the glass down, and meet his eyes. “I couldn’t see who they were, but it’s two of them. They were getting in some kind of vehicle, I think. It was dark.”

 

“I doubt it’s a truck, if these are S.H.I.E.L.D. people. They have a lot of ground to cover. They’ll fly here,” he states.

 

Your brows furrow. “They’ll be airborne?”

 

Clint nods. “Fury has always been one to take to the air.”

 

“Hmm,” you muse and glance out in the distance. Your mind is assorting that information before you stand up. After dusting off your long, black coat, you begin walking away.

 

Clint catches up. “Where are you going?”

 

“Outside,” you answer.

 

“Why?

 

“Because if someone is coming, then I’m going to deviate them.”

 

“Alone?” he wonders.

 

You pause to look at him. “You’re free to join me, if you’d like. It would keep you from boredom,” you say with a sly smile. “And I could use some of your skills.”

 

You both take to walking once more, making your way to the entrance.

 

“What are you planning?” Clint asks curiously.

 

“They’re flying in, right? Well, the moment they enter our barrier, they’ll have access to all of our information again. We can’t have that.”

 

The cool, night breeze hits your face. It’s refreshing and restoring. Stars decorate the black, open sky with only the slit of a white moon to accompany it.

 

Your head immediately turns to the apartments in which Loki resides. Your eyes scan the area. You feel the area out.

 

“What is it?” Clint asks, noting your sudden change of focus.

 

You look around, but nothing is out of order. Nightfall hides the detailing of the place, but you can still feel that the guard is still over there. Loki made his decision in choosing one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel to guard his door, leaving Clint to guard the scientist, and you to guard the base as a whole. You’re _so_ sure that something’s up over there, _but_ … there is no summons from the prince. So you push it aside, for fear of the lingering mind ache growing.

 

“Nothing,” you finally tell him and look up at the sky. “Let’s get on the roof.” You turn and begin scaling up the building.

 

“We couldn’t have taken the elevator?” Clint scoffs and begins climbing.

 

“Too easy,” you call back with a laugh.

 

The archer glances up. He did not get to meet you before this series of events, but at this moment, he can see a glimpse of who you were… _are_ , outside of the circumstances. He sees why they liked you. And with the satisfaction that that idea brings, Clint continues up the side of the building.

 

When he makes it to the top, he finds you standing there with your eyes closed, your coat and braid billowing in the breeze. Clint steps up to quietly. He watches your blue fire-filled eyes open, and they meet his own.

 

“They’re coming,” you confirm. “And I have a crazy idea.”

 

“Let’s hear it,” Clint tells you.

 

“Your arrows, which I personally discovered are _not_ normal, can they power off their aircraft?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good. And I can trust your aim?”

 

The archer scoffs. “Isn’t that a given?” he counters.

 

You raise an eyebrow. “One day I’ll challenge you on that,” you tease with a smirk. “Okay, I need you to take a hold of me.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

Smiling, you close the distance between yourself and him. You wrap and arm around his core, and then make his do the same. “I hope you’re light on your feet!”

 

“Wait, what the fuck are we doing!”

 

“They’re coming our way. We’re about to lead them north, far north. Hang on tight!” You call your power to your feet and leap with Clint in tow.

 

“ ** _Holyshitthisisntnormal_!!** ” he yells the whole arch over.

 

Laughing, you land gently. “I think that got their attention. Ready for the next one?”

 

“Do you want an honest answer?”

 

“Not really,” you laugh. “After this one I’ll start sending out lights in different directions to keep them on our trail. The next time I stop permanently, you’ll send an arrow at them, shutting them down.”

 

“And then?”

 

“We’ll watch them fall.” You leap into the air; this time Clint holds himself together.

 

~*~

 

Alarms, lights, beeps, and all sorts of digital things go off inside the Quinjet, alarming poor Steve’s mind.

 

“We’re near them,” Natasha explains.

 

“Look!” Steve points out the wide windshield at a set of sparks going off in the distance. “Head that way.”

 

Natasha changes some coordinates then moves the jet to head north.

 

Another set of sparks fly into the air. They’re to the left this time. More appear to the right. More on the left.

 

“What’s going on?” Steve questions aloud.

 

“What do you mean?” Natasha asks as she keeps the jet in line with the lights.

 

“Those… aren’t a call for help. They’re… luring us _away_.”

 

Natasha’s fine brows come together in confusion. “That’s not possible,” she counters. “The computers read that _they_ are the one’s we’re looking for.”

 

“So why aren’t they with the rest?”

 

Suddenly the computer screens glitch, and then shut off. Lights go off one by one. And just like when a plug is pulled on an appliance, there is a whine that comes from the Quinjet losing power.

 

“No. No, no, no,” Natasha mutters as she presses all sorts of buttons and moves dials. “Dammit. Fuck!”

 

Suddenly the Quinjet careens forward and begins falling out of the air at an alarmingly fast rate.

 

Steve undoes his buckle and undoes Natasha’s. “Let’s go!” He grabs her wrist and yanks her to the back. He grabs a parachute in the time Natasha opens the hatch. He straps it on and grabs Natasha. “Hang on!” And then he jumps out, Natasha in tow.

 

You and Clint watch from a short distance away as the Quinjet falls down to Earth. On the side, a parachute drifts far away from the wreckage.

 

“That should keep them busy for a while,” Clint commented.

 

“Yup, yup,” you sing.

 

The Quinjet finally makes its crash landing.

 

“Hmm, we should take that back with us!” you muse aloud.

 

“ _Why_?”

 

You shrug. “Why not? Loki won’t complain. He _can’t_ complain! It’s more of a gain than anything else. And it’s far better transportation than those trucks.”

 

Clint lets out a sigh, which only makes you giggle in victory. “Let’s go,” he says, giving in. He holds on tightly as you make one last leap.

 

Together you overtake the Quinjet. Clint walks inside and sits himself down at the pilot's seat. With your help, he overrides the system and turns on the jet. He clicks away at the colorful array of buttons. He flips the needed switches to shut the hatch and get the jet off the ground.

 

You watch him curiously, sitting in the copilot chair. He seems so at ease, so at home among this crazy technology. You realize that this is what he's trained to do. _This_ is his world. You sit back in your chair and just chuckle.

 

"What?" Clint asks as he directs the Quinjet back towards the base.

 

"I'm just glad one of us knows what to do with all this damn technology," you admit with a laugh.

 

"So there _are_ things you can't do!"

 

You scoff. "Oh, please. I could've stolen this without your help. It just would've looked very different!"

 

Clint laughs. "Sure, you keep telling yourself that."

 

~*~

 

Meanwhile, Steve and Natasha are recovering from their rough landing. They only get to hear the Quinjet rear back to life and disappear into the darkness. With some painful groans, Steve gets to his feet and helps Natasha stand.

 

“Ambush. We were ambushed,” he tells her. “Damn!”

 

Natasha turns on her com and calls in.

 

“ _ **Romanoff!** What. The. FU-_ ”

 

“Will you just come pick us up?” she interjects, annoyance coloring her voice.

 

Noises in the background cover Fury’s angry mutterings. Then Coulson takes the call. “ _I’ll be there soon. Send us your location_.”

 

“Thanks,” Natasha concludes and sends her signal. She glances back at Steve. “I’m sorry, Captain.”

 

Steve doesn’t hold back his glare. “Let’s just get back,” he growls. "I think we've done enough."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo things aren't going well for our SHIELD peeps lol
> 
> And Reader is having too much fun stealing that jet! ;)
> 
> Things are moving, friends!


	4. Preparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallo, friends!!
> 
> I am so sorry this took so long! School got super busy, then the holidays came and just took over, and I've been nursing my poor anxiety and introvertedness back to health. So, I thank you for your patience.
> 
> Forgive me if this chapter feels a bit slow, we still need to set some things up.
> 
> Enjoy! ^_^

 

Clint smoothly parks the Quinjet behind the building that’s become your crew’s temporary base. “Well, here we are,” he declares, pretending to speak through the com system. “I hope the lady enjoyed her time on _Stolen S.H.I.E.L.D. Airfares_.”

 

Laughing, you make your way out of the jet. It’s still dark out. The shift of the moon is the only thing that notes how long you’ve been gone. It’s only been a couple hours. Sense of time has felt off since the beginning of this strange adventure. You just don't feel aware of it.

 

Before you enter the building, you glance over at the apartments again. You no longer feel that something is off about the place. Wandering curiosity still wants you to go check out the area, but the logic in your mind says that to do so is silly and a waste of time. Yet something does nag at the back of your mind. There's _something_ you need to check. But you don't know what. So you ignore the notion and go back to your task.

 

You and Clint make your way back down to the rest of the crew. Upon entering, you feel an oppressive force come onto your chest and mind.

 

“Where in Hel have you been?” Loki hisses as he marches closer, glowing scepter in hand.

 

Your staff appears in your hands as your body shifts into one of defense. As the scepter grows closer to you, the greater the suffocating weight in your chest is. You hold the end of the staff up to keep Loki at a distance.

 

His eyes burn blue with anger as he comes to the very edge of the staff. “You _dare_ lift a weapon against me!” He knocks the staff away with his scepter.

 

A splash of sparks explodes from the contact, and flashes attack your mind as you backpedal.

 

 _A woman. He had been with a woman. She **yelled** at him. And then she left_.

 

Pain snaps you out of the memory. As your eyes and mind focus in again, you find that Clint has stepped between you and the Pissed-Off Prince of Asgard with a sharp arrow aimed for your heart. Immediately, your fingers release the staff, and it clatters to the floor, promptly disappearing. You hold your empty hands up in surrender.

 

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean…”

 

You don’t expect your words drop off, but they do. There’s a battle inside of you. Your mind tells you to bow and submit, but something in your stomach keeps you from it. The war is unsettling.

 

You settle for lowering your hands and standing up straight, meeting the prince’s watchful eyes. “I can explain why we were gone,” you assert.

 

Loki eyes you a moment longer. Satisfied with your compliance, he gives the order, “At ease, archer.”

 

Clint eases his draw on the bowstring and lowers the arrow. He does not put his weapon away, though.

 

The prince steps closer to you. “Explain, healer.”

 

“Two of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s agents were headed right for us,” you start. “I needed to distract them and lead them away, so I took Agent Barton with me as extra help. Together, we sent them several miles north of here and crashed their jet. We left them stranded there.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Among the crash, the agents jumped out and landed far from their transportation. So we stole it,” you say with a hint of a smirk, “and brought it back here.”

 

“Is this true, archer?” Loki asks the man with a quirked brow.

 

“Every word,” Barton replies still watching you closely.

 

This information seems to lighten the prince’s mood. The first signs of a smile even begin to show on his lips. “Show me.”

 

After returning his bow to his back, Clint and the prince follow your lead up to the Quinjet. Upon seeing it, Loki assesses the newest addition to his collectibles. “You’ve seen to its traces?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Clint replies promptly. “They can’t track us.”

 

The prince allows his smile to spread properly. “Well done,” he allows and guides them back to the base.

 

“Hey, Hawk,” Erik calls out the moment the three of you enter the large room once more, “get over here. I need you to look something up.”

 

Clint jogs over to the scientists and looks at the computer.

 

“They’ve found something,” you observe as you stand next to the prince.

 

“As they very well should,” Loki replies.

 

Clint takes a separate tablet and begins doing his own research.

 

Loki approaches the edge of the sectioned-off lab while you follow closely behind, curiosity moving your feet.

 

Dr. Selvig greets the prince with a wide grin on his face. “Your Highness,” he exclaims, “the Tesseract is showing me so much. And it’s incredible! It’s more than just knowledge, it’s… _truth_.”

 

The Emerald Prince with sapphire eyes smiles upon the scientist. “I know,” he says. “To be enlightened is to have power.” His eyes turn to the archer as Dr. Selvig returns to his research. “What is it showing you?” he asks Barton.

 

“How to achieve our new mission,” Clint answers quickly. He taps at the tablet. His eyes almost seem to glow brighter than normal.

 

“Which is?” you ask with a raised eyebrow. There’s so much bustle in the room that you’re trying to focus on one thing at a time. You can feel the scepter radiating its power into the room’s occupants; it’s doing different things for everyone.

 

“We need Iridium,” Erik calls out. When he reads the confusion in your face, he continues, “It’s a special element found in meteorites. It can form anti-protons. And it’s very hard to get a hold of.”

 

 _What the hell is an **anti-proton**?_ You massage your temple with two fingers to hold off the prickling in your mind.

 

“Especially if S.H.I.E.L.D.’s gotten to it first,” Clint adds.

 

“Is Fury really so stingy with such materials?” you inquire as you cross your arms. All this information is so foreign to you, and the jargon is only making it worse.

 

“Have you met the man?”

 

You bob your head as you acknowledge his logic.

 

Loki swivels to face you better. “Tell me, healer, what knowledge has been imparted to you?” he asks. “Dr. Selvig and Agent Barton have each gained from the Tesseract. What has it shown you?”

 

You peer up at him. You search his regal features to find any kind of sign of trickery. But as far as you can see, he’s just being curious. His thirst for knowledge includes wanting to know what you’re getting out of this too. “People,” you say.

 

Loki’s dark brows come together, and you garner the attention of the other two men. For they’ve all gained knowledge, seen visions, and have explored the intricacies of the world, especially their scientific and technological world. These three men are sharp, intelligent, seekers of knowledge.

 

What are you? Curious, that’s for sure, but even in this you hold to your life of simplicity. What has the Tesseract shown you? People. Because of who you are, you probably know more about people than these three fellows put together. And that’s just how it is. You’re okay with that.

 

“You are a peculiar being,” Loki states quietly.

 

It only makes you smile at him. “Isn’t it wonderful?” you tease.

 

“Hey, I’ve found it!” calls Clint. “Come look.”

 

You and the prince step forward.

 

“Iridium hiding in Stuttgart, Germany.”

 

“Isn’t that in… what’s it called… Europe?” you ask. The prickling increases as you search out why you know this information. When it starts to hurt too much, you just decide that it’s because Fury has told you about the place at some point. He’s sent you on so many missions overseas that it’s not unlikely.

 

“Yes, it is,” Barton answers. “They’re about eight hours ahead of us.” The archer looks to the prince. “How do you want us to go about this?”

 

“Well we could just do it Fury-style and send me out to get it,” you tell him.

 

“This is locked under high, technological security systems. How do you plan on getting through those?”

 

“You’ve obviously _not_ been informed of what I can do.”

 

Barton’s blue eyes assess you like a graph. “We were not privy to your specs. Only Fury, Coulson, and Hill could have that information.”

 

Your brows scrunch together. _Huh_. By this point, you thought everyone knew everything about you.

 

“It matters not,” Loki intercedes. “Aside from Dr. Selvig and a squadron to keep him guard, we shall all be going.”

 

You and the archer share a mutual look of bewilderment.

 

“What will be needed?” Loki asks Barton.

 

Clint holds up the table to show the basic map of the area. Red colors the areas that need to be secured. Green lights the target. Shades of gray distinguish the layout. “I’ll need some men to take and hold the perimeter while one of us slips inside to get the Iridium.”

 

“Aside from the men, do you require anything else?”

 

“A distraction… and an eyeball.”

 

“Someone’s _specific_ eyeball?” you question.

 

Barton holds up the tablet to show a middle-aged, blond man in a suit. With a simple point, he answers the question.

 

A thin smile slowly takes Loki’s regal features. “I can get you those,” he says with mischievous delight.

 

For some reason, you know this should disturb you… but it doesn’t.

 

“Pick out your team. Use the aircraft for transportation. Your job is to retrieve the Iridium and return it to Dr. Selvig promptly. The healer and I shall provide a distraction.”

 

Your eyebrows jump. “We _are_?” you inquire astonished. “As in _you_ and me?”

 

“Yes, healer. Do not question me.”

 

Your mouth clicks shut, leaving a strange taste in your mouth at the unbidden obedience.

 

“Begin the preparations,” Loki orders the room.

 

A frenzy of movement commences.

 

You pluck the tablet out of Barton’s hands before he leaves to get things ready. After memorizing the man’s face, you start tapping away at the sleek screen and move to the side, taking a seat. Your fingers scroll through as your eyes search the information.

 

“What do you seek, healer?” the prince asks as he approaches.

 

“Details,” you answer. “I’m doing some research on the place we’re going into.” But you heave an exasperated sigh, once more running into the frequent problem that arises with nearly every journey you take out around the world. “But I can’t read the language so I’m going to have to translate it, which might take up time.”

 

The Emerald Prince’s eyebrow quirks. He does not have time for such nuances. “How well do you understand languages?” he asks.

 

Without taking your eyes off the tablet, you answer, “My powers allow me to adapt to the people around me, including their spoken language. Little by little, my mind starts to pick up on familiar words and even subtleties that will allow me to understand them. If I stay long enough, I’ll learn it roughly. And if I spend enough time looking over the written language I can figure out how to read it sufficiently to get by.”

 

“Have you ever desired more?”

 

You scoff lightly. “All the time. I’d love to invest in the languages better. Unfortunately, my schedule doesn’t always accommodate that well.”

 

Suddenly the gem in the scepter glows brightly, blue energy pulses into your being.

 

 _Let your mind expand…. Stop resisting…. Submit…. See what you are **missing** …_.

 

A crashing wave courses through your head. It feels as though the ocean is opening before you. You see things, hear things… _know_ things. A blanket of understanding settles over everything. And as your blue-filled eyes fall upon the tablet screen, letters, words, and phrases begin unscrambling themselves in your mind. It’s like watching a jigsaw puzzle work itself out.

 

You let your eyes glaze over to allow your mind to travel and search. All the earthen languages you’ve heard and seen converge in a massive cloud, and then rain down in clarity upon your mind.

 

You snap back to your present state and gawk at Loki, mouth open in shock.

 

His shockingly blue eyes watch you closely. “I do believe you were researching,” he states easily.

 

Your eyes return to the tablet in your lap. You wake it and continue your work. You move with ease, drinking in the slew of new information.

 

Loki observes a smirk take your lips. With smug satisfaction, he inquires, “What have you found, healer?”

 

“Our distraction,” you tell. “The Iridium is currently hidden within the crypts of an art museum, which just so happens to be hosting a gala tonight.”

 

There’s the slightest of quirks in the prince’s eyebrow.

 

“To you, it’s hardly a parlor event. But here on Earth, it’s quite the top-notch party. Everyone will be dressed up, there will be music, and _security_ will be distracted with the guests rather than their hidden prize. Our man will be hosting.”

 

“Sounds like a perfect place for a royal visit,” Barton interjects as he approaches. He wears all of his tight, black gear, arm guards, boots, and full quiver with his archer’s bow in hand.

 

“Do you need something?” Loki asks.

 

Barton shakes his head. “Just want to get the last run through of the plan,” he answers.

 

“Your objective is the Iridium. Find it, steal it, and return. The healer and I shall keep the guests busy. Dr. Selvig might have more to add.” Loki straightens and directs the archer back towards the encased scientist and equipment. He speaks in soft tones with them.

 

You wonder what he’s hiding that he doesn’t want you to know. But rather than investigate, you return your attention to the tablet. You do a broader search for the area where this museum resides. You study the layout of the land and find some potential landing spots. You create a general idea of how to reach the town, and then the museum in time to crash the party tonight.

 

Loki and Barton return to you.

 

“So you’ll be in charge of getting the prince to Germany,” Barton informs you.

 

“Yup,” you say, unsure of how you knew that already. “I’ll shoot us over, which means we’ll get there before you.”

 

“How will you know when we arrive?”

 

“We’ll know,” you and the prince reply in unison.

 

“I’ll feel your arrival. Prince Know-It-All here will just _know_ ,” you tease with a smirk.

 

“You are not funny, healer,” Loki puts in.

 

“Sure, I am. On the off chance that you get here before us, hang out here,” you tell Barton and point to a region near the German town. “It’ll keep you and the Quinjet hidden. Wait till nightfall before you decide to move in. You can count on us being there by then.”

 

The agent nods his understanding.

 

The prince looks to the archer. “Do you have everything?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Barton replies. “We are ready. With your permission, I’ll take us out.”

 

Loki nods and watches the archer lead his troop away. “When will you move us, healer?” he asks of you as his intense blue eyes fall upon your face.

 

You clear the tablet and return it to the scientist. “Hey, Erik, what time is it?” you ask the man.

 

“Morning. The sun’s up,” he answers.

 

“Thanks.” You turn back to the prince. “In a few hours, closer to noon. Shall I come find you then?”

 

“I will be here,” he concludes and swiftly walks away, scepter in hand.

 

Your eyes trace the green and gold regalia, listening to his boots’ steps. You can almost palpably feel when he exits the building. It lets you suck in a breath that comes with a dizzying spell. You scratch your head again and rest your eyes. “Doctor, is there a scientific way to sleep without sleeping?” you ask Erik.

 

He chuckles. “No, ma’am!” he replies, blue eyes alight.

 

You smile. “I can hope, can’t I?”

 

He searches his general vicinity before picking something up. “Here.” He tosses you a strange, mechanical gadget.

 

You catch it easily and peer at it curiously.

 

“It’ll keep you busy.”

 

“Thanks.” You find a place to lounge and start fiddling with the broken device. You hope time passes quickly.

 

~*~

 

With his thumbs hooked into his jean loops, Steve frowns at the floor as his mind works through everything. In the background, Agent Romanoff chats quietly with another S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel as they steer the Quinjet toward the eastern horizon. The morning sun kisses the aircraft with its rays.

 

“You sure you’re alright, Cap?” Agent Coulson asks the somber soldier.

 

Steve let’s out a long breath through his nose. “Things just aren’t adding up,” he admits.

 

Coulson steps closer, crossing his arms and clearing his throat. “I’ve not had the chance to meet your Lady Light – as she’s known to most.”

 

Steve cracks a smile and lifts his sky-blue eyes to the agent.

 

“But I’ve heard she’s a quick one, good with problem-solving, and rather elusive.”

 

The soldier nods in agreement as he continues to listen.

 

“So if we know that she’s still alive, then we certainly know that she will hold her own,” Coulson assures.

 

Steve pulls at his weary face and messy hair. “You’re right. She can, and she will if she has anything to do with it. But… this mind… control… notion worries me. What is it? How does it work? And why did Fury not mention it in the first place?”

 

Coulson uncrosses his arms as he gives an awkward grimace. “He worried it would be too upsetting,” he answers. “To see this mission through, he needs an active, vigilant soldier.”

 

Steve sets frustrated hands on his narrow hips with a huff. “Is Nick ever upfront about anything?”

 

The agent simply waits out the man’s frustrations with his civil smile. Deciding to change the subject, he states, “I think you’ll like where we’re going this morning. It might even make you feel more at home.” He holds out a hand towards the view at the head of the craft.

 

Steve steps closer to the pilot’s seat and peers out.

 

A vast, flat, concrete pier extends over the murky water down blow. It is overrun by soldiers, airmen, and other personnel. Various aircrafts line the perimeters. At its center sits a secure building that serves as the hub. Even from above, Steve recognizes the familiar buzz of a military base. “Where are we?” he asks. “Is there a submarine nearby?”

 

“Come take a look for yourself,” Coulson invites with a grin.

 

The Quinjet comes to a smooth landing. The hatch at the back opens wide. People work quickly to attend to the newest arrival.

 

Steve follows Agent Coulson out onto the sun-filled concrete. They shield their eyes with a hand to get a good look around. Together they spot a familiar figure dressed all in black heading their way.

 

“Captain Rogers, welcome back,” Director Nick Fury greets in his usual gruff manner.

 

“Listen,” Steve begins but immediately stops at Fury’s raised hand.

 

“I don’t have any quarrels with you, Cap. It’s Agent Romanoff that I need to talk to.”

 

A frown etches Steve’s lips. “You can’t put all the blame on her. I was just as much a part of this as she.”

 

Nick turns a lazy smirk to Agent Coulson.

 

“I told you,” the agent explains.

 

Nick looks back at Steve. “Not everything works out that nicely, Cap. Due to present circumstances, I’ll waive her impulsive grievance that could’ve caused us both your lives. Now, hold on tight. I have something to show you.”

 

Some horn sounds overhead. Everyone moves to their posts. The pier breaks off from the mainland. Over the edge, what look like giant, circular vents rise out of the water at the four corners and flatten out. They start oscillating, and the massive piece of land lifts off the water.

 

Steve can hardly keep his jaw from hanging to the ground as he watches this unfold before his very eyes. Once more he is struck by the progress technology has taken since his time in service. "This is definitely _not_ a submarine," he mutters.

 

“Come see the inside,” Nick invites and walks towards the hub.

 

Steve, Coulson, and Natasha follow closely behind. Nick leads them to the vessel’s bridge. They are met by a semicircle area filled with computers manned by S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel. Agent Maria Hill stands at the head above them all. Two screens decorate each side of her as she looks over the railing giving orders.

 

Agent Hill glances back at the group. “We’re at lock, sir,” she informs Director Fury.

 

“Good,” he replies. “Let’s vanish.”

 

Agent Hill taps at the screen to her left. It displays the transition occurring outside. The walls of the craft become covered by reflective mirrors. A green light goes off when its complete.

 

“Welcome to the Helicarrier,” Fury tells Steve. “Nice, isn’t it?”

 

Steve pulls out his wallet and extracts a ten-dollar bill. He hands it to the chuckling director. “I always thought Howard was ahead of his time,” he comments. “But this-” with a great gesture to the scene before him “-this takes the cake.”

 

Director Fury approaches Agent Hill. “Are the scanners up?” he asks her.

 

“Yes, sir,” Hill responds. “We have eyes and ears everywhere.”

 

“Is that all we’re using to find them?” Natasha asks as she joins the other two.

 

“For the moment,” Fury answers her. “We are giving this another try before I decide to move us to greater measures. Don’t mess this one up.” He glances up at Steve. “Agent Coulson will show you to a room where you can rest up. These have been long nights for you. We’ll let you know when we have something.”

 

Agent Coulson smiles up at the soldier and holds out a hand to show him the way out.

 

Steve follows the agent away from the bridge.

 

“Have I mentioned my card collection before?” Agent Coulson the hero that walks at his side.

 

Steve wants to answer yes, but instead he shakes his head and listens to the agent’s musings once more. It’s a welcome distraction to his tired mind.

 

~*~

 

“Doctor,” you call, “come look!”

 

Erik Selvig steps out of his science cage and joins you.

 

You set the little gadget he gave you on a table. It looks nothing what it started out as. Where before it was a jumble of machinery and wires, it is now a little bug-looking thing. “Check this out. I think I fixed it.” You tap some light into it.

 

The bug lights up and starts to shift. Its mechanical legs begin to twitch and move. Soon its square head points itself up at you and the scientist.

 

Erik’s star-filled eyes brighten. “What have you created?” he asks in wonder.

 

“Umm, I think he’s made to be a scanner. I’m not entirely sure what his wiring is made for, _but_ … he works now!” You grin to deflect from your lack of knowledge in these things.

 

Erik picks up the little guy and takes him over a different table covered in gadgets and papers and a random assortment of items. “Alright, show us what you do,” he tells the bug.

 

It registers his words and begins roaming. Suddenly it burrows into a pile and digs around. Soon it brings out a screw and a bolt and a nut.

 

You laugh. “It finds things,” you note. “I _would_ fix something like that. Maybe you can program him to find certain things for you, doctor. Good job, Buggy!” You hold a finger out and give the strange machine a weird high-five.

 

The scientist chuckles. “I think I shall.” Dr. Selvig takes Buggy back with him into the science cage.

 

Suddenly a shiver runs down your back, and you whirl around.

 

Loki marches into the room, scepter in hand, blue gem glowing. He commands authority with every step that he takes. He holds his head high. He looks better put together than he has of late. He looks ready for his mission. You realize that he’s been bored and is ready to see something happen.

 

“Time to head out?” you ask.

 

“Yes, it is,” he answers smoothly. “Dr. Selvig, I leave the facility in your hands.”

 

Erik sends a salute. “Have fun crashing the party!”

 

“Oh, we will,” you assure him with a smile. You remove your black, S.H.I.E.L.D. coat and set it on the table. You want better freedom to move. You lead the prince up to the roof of the building. The New Mexico sun shines upon you both. “Ready?”

 

Loki nods and almost looks like he’s bracing himself for the ride.

 

The thought amuses you. “Don’t worry, I won’t break you, Your Royal Highness.”

 

The sapphire eyes throw you a glare.

 

Chuckling, you sidle up to the Emerald Prince and grab a hold of him. You feel the familiar pull of summoning your wave of light. The golden river swirls up from your feet, wrapping you both, and then shoots you high into the sky.

 

A shooting star of emerald and gold streaks the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Onto Germany!!!
> 
> Y'all I'm so excited for this!!!!
> 
> AAAAHHHHH!!!
> 
> Finally have made it here!! ;D


	5. Going to the Gala

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I am so terribly sorry this took so long! Holiday stuff and end of school stuff got in the way. And then a few characters didn't feel like cooperating with me for a while. Ugh. But it's done! Yay!
> 
> Enjoy!

The shooting star explodes in a vast shower of golden-emerald light within a grove of trees. The effects of the shower leave the grove looking like the season of autumn has just come into fruition. The trees now dangle with green and gold leaves, as though you’ve suddenly walked into the courtyards of Asgard themselves. Even in the dim moonlight the change is visible.

 

But you have don’t time to admire the beauty. Your knees buckle out from under you as your body takes to gravity again.

 

“Curious experience,” the Emerald Prince muses as he stands at your side.

 

You groan. “Damn, Loki,” you grumble into the ground. “I didn’t think you’d be so hard to carry.” You push yourself up onto wobbly hands and knees. The wave of lightheadedness slowly works its way out of your brain. Once your stomach settles, you sit up better.

 

“Where have you brought us?” Loki questions as he takes in the dark, nature scene.

 

“Just outside of Stuttgart. I didn’t want us to just drop into the city.” You push off the ground and rise to your feet once more. Dusting the dirt off, you take in the surroundings. It’s colder here, and the rustic air creates such a contrast from the dry, heat of New Mexico.

 

“Have the others arrived?” Loki asks.

 

Inhaling and clearing your mind, you close your eyes to feel your way out. You search the land, memorizing details in case you need them later. Finally, you come upon the S.H.I.E.L.D. group gathered around the Quinjet. “Yes,” you inform the prince, pulling back to yourself. “They’re just a few miles north of here where I told them to go. I’ll let them know we’ve arrived.” You summon a small ball of light and throw it into the air. It soars overhead and disappears into the night. “It’ll lead them to us at the museum.”

 

Loki’s sapphire eyes continue to restlessly search the grounds. “Where is the town?”

 

You point westward. “That way.”

 

“Get us there as quickly as possible,” Loki orders.

 

You roll your eyes as you approach the demanding prince. “Hang on,” you warn him. Grabbing hold of him once more, you throw your power into your feet and leap far forward. It’s enough to send you into the town. You steady yourself as another wave of lightheadedness runs through by clutching onto Loki’s garb.

 

He places you upright so you stand properly once more.

 

The place is quiet. Street lights illuminate the buildings and empty roads. Cars are parked outside of respective homes. The night is peaceful.

 

Loki casually walks down the street, golden scepter at his side. His regalia stands out among the rustic feel of the town.

 

A car drives by, and you’re pretty sure someone takes out their phone to take a picture.

 

With a shake of your head, you follow the prince. “Are you trying to stand out on purpose?” you ask of him.

 

He throws a glance back at your outfit. “I do recall those being _Asgardian_ leathers,” he notes. “Though I do not remember the addition of such colors.”

 

“A friend mended them,” you answer vaguely and let your eyes trace the blue and white trimmings and the extra material at the edges of the top. But that’s not the point. “I don’t know about you, but _I_ at least plan to look the part before going into the _gala_.”

 

A thin smile appears on Loki’s lips. “As do I, healer.” He continues, oblivious to the occasional onlooker, and eventually comes upon a store with a large window display.

 

It’s already closed, but inside are mannequins dressed in formal wear. The male ones wear sharp suits of either black or gray. The females wear an array of dresses that come in all sorts of colors and designs.

 

You move down the line looking at the dresses. They’re beautiful, and not terribly gaudy. “Are we planning on stealing these?” you inquire curiously.

 

You find a pretty green one and stand in front of it. Your reflection startles you at first. The strange, electric-blue of your eyes catch you off guard. You’re still not used to them, but you push that aside to look at the clothes again.

 

The dress is strapless with a simple A-line skirt, all in deep green. There’s an inserted pleat on the left that reveals gold material to add some contrast. The mannequin wears golden gloves to match.

 

You mimic the funny position the female mannequin stands in, with one hand pretending to hold up a glass while the other daintily sits on the hip. You lift your nose to better fit the fancy airs of the attire. As you look at your reflection in the window, you laugh. It’s rather ridiculous.

 

Suddenly an electric, green glow makes the dress disappear from the mannequin.

 

You jump back gasping and catch a flash of gold. You look down at your hands and find elbow-length gloves on them. Chilly winds run over your bare shoulders, and it draws your attention to the dress you now wear. The very dress that you just admired through the window, now decorates your body. Even your boots have changed to slippers, as you lift the skirt to take a glance at them.

 

The Emerald Prince approaches with a smirk on his face. “Better,” he remarks, passing by without giving a damn about explaining what he just did.

 

Your eyes follow him, and you finally take notice of his own change of clothes.

 

Loki wears a sleek, three-piece black suit. There’s a crisp white dress shirt and black tie beneath the vest, and a long scarf of green and yellow to finish the look. His hair is slicked back elegantly. The scepter has been converted to a long, gold cane with a blue jewel at the pommel.

 

You can’t help but admire the prince’s look – he’s handsome, even in human clothes.

 

You glance back at your reflection in the windows and find that the pack you wear across your back has been converted to a golden sash that crosses over the green dress. Even your hair has come out of its braid to fall in its cascade of locks, cleaned and decorated. The fox pendant still rests upon your chest, now clearly visible.

 

You look ready for a gala.

 

Upon closer inspection, it is revealed that your leathers now decorate the female mannequin. Her awkward position is accentuated by the leather, corset-like top, the bracers on the wrists, and the pants and boots.

 

“Whoa, wait,” you call out to Loki. “I still want those!”

 

He swivels around to assess what you’re talking about. “Is that sentimentality I hear again?” he asks loftily.

 

You roll your eyes. “ _No_ ,” you retort, “I just like them. They’re practical for what I do.”

 

He takes a breath. “We can fetch them upon our return. We currently have other _important_ matters to attend to. Priorities, healer.” He swings back around and strides onward.

 

With a frustrated huff, you concede and follow the prince. You quickly catch up with his long strides and do your best to keep at his side. Despite your lack of status unlike the prince beside you, you both create quite the royal-looking pair.

 

But you can’t help thinking that rather than wearing _his_ colors, you should be dressed in... _blue_.

 

~*~

 

An alert blares to life on one of the many computer screens that reside within the round bridge of the Helicarrier.

 

Agent Hill promptly pulls up the alert on her own screen to better assess it. A large power surge emits a wave of energy that moves at an alarming rate. “Follow it,” Hill commands. “Hold onto its track and lock onto its destination.” She taps the com device in her ear. “Director Fury, Agent Coulson, I need you at the bridge,” she states.

 

It’s not long before Agent Phil Coulson arrives.

 

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

 

“I think I’ve found our missing target,” Agent Hill explains, directing his attention to the computer screen.

 

Phil quickly reads the information. “How did you get these results?” he questions with narrowed eyes.

 

Maria crosses her arms, her face serious. “I did what Agent Castillo suggested,” she answers.

 

“ _Carla?_ ”

 

“Yes. She’s already tracked the girl before, and it worked. Why are you not letting her help in this?”

 

“That doesn’t concern you,” Phil replies.

 

“It does if it means that it makes this job easier,” Hill responds. “Why haven’t you promoted her? At the very least she should be on this case. She more than proved her capabilities last year.”

 

“Yes, and we’ve been very busy since then. Look, Hill.”

 

But Agent Hill just shakes her head firmly. “Promote her and give her command at the New York branch. Stop wasting her talent, skill, and potential.”

 

“Agent Hill, Agent Coulson?” one of the agents calls.

 

Maria and Phil turn to the fellow.

 

“We’re getting facial recognitions,” he explains. “From both the hostile and the Lady. They don’t seem to be hiding.”

 

Pictures and other various feeds appear on their computer screens lending truth to the evidence.

 

“Where are they?” Phil asks.

 

“Stuttgart, Germany.”

 

“We’re already moving that way,” Maria answers the unspoken question that comes with the eyebrow raise.

 

“Good,” Phil replies, turning away. “We need to get in there _immediately_.”

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“To tell Director Fury and the Captain. It’s time to move.”

 

~*~

 

Steve sits in his small room quietly. His hands expertly sketch your profile by memory. A smile touches his lips when the pen makes out the necklace he gave you over a year ago. It warms his aching heart thinking on how much you love that fox. It brings to mind that vixen smile you give when mischief make your eyes shine.

 

 _My fox… my girl… my shooting star_.

 

He traces your features on the sketch pad. He’s vowed to find you, to save you. Because one thing he knows for sure, you would not _stand_ for being under someone’s control. So he’s going to get you out of it. And he will bring you home.

 

A knock at the door startles Steve out of his reverie. “Come in,” the soldier calls, closing his sketch pad.

 

The door opens to reveal Director Fury and Agent Coulson.

 

Steve gets to his feet immediately, concern on his face. “Did you find her?” he asks.

 

“Yes, we have,” Phil replies.

 

“And?”

 

“You’re up, Cap,” the director answers.

 

Much to Steve’s surprise, he finds himself calmly accepting the situation. There’s a steeling in his sky-blue eyes.

 

“Care to suit up this time?” Fury continues. “She’s not alone.”

 

Steve nods firmly, squaring his shoulders. “Let’s do this.”

 

~*~

 

The museum presents itself with great poise at the end of the street. Its marble pillars and steps invite any viewer to approach in awe.

 

You do. You pause to take in the lovely building. Banners hang to display promotion of the evening’s events. After admiring the architecture, your eyes venture to seek out the underlying details of the place, such as exits, guards, number of bystanders. The main guests are already inside since the event has long begun by now. Your eyes find the Prince of Asgard moving toward the entrances at the top. You catch up to him.

 

Loki makes his way up the last set of marble steps where three security guards stand. They’re in charge of approving identification from the guests. Majority of those guests are already inside, so they have nothing better to do but direct all their attention at your royal companion. The blue gem atop the golden cane emits its familiar glow.

 

Words are spoken as the guards talk amongst themselves, and it takes a stutter for them to translate in your mind. But as more chatter makes its way into your ears, the more you understand.

 

“One moment, sir, madam,” one security guard starts with a warning hand. “Identification, please.”

 

“I am Loki, soon to be the ruler of this realm,” the Emerald Prince announces with a smug smile on his cocky face.

 

The blue energy of the cane swims in the air.

 

You feel how it caresses your mind. How it _whispers_ of its power in your ear. How it _pulls_ you…. How it makes you **_want_** _more of it_ ….

 

It teases traits of yourself that you typically keep down. Your gloved fingers trace your necklace.

 

“Of-of course,” the guard stammers, stepping aside.

 

With shoulders back and head held high, the Trickster God strides forward, pretentious bastard that he is.

 

A smirk sets itself upon your mouth as you watch the security guard give way to Loki with a quick tuck of his chin. If he’s never been in the presence of a prince before, he sure has now. You glide on past the man with a wink and a swish of your skirt, and then step inside the museum.

 

The main area almost immediately splits into separate floors. A staircase to your left leads up, but the stairway to your right leads down into an open room where the sound of chatter rises from. Music floats up from somewhere down below as well. Strings and a piano are played in an inviting manner.

 

You follow Loki to the balcony and let your eyes observe the scene. “Fashionably late,” you quip to your companion.

 

A crowd of people gather to the right side of the floor. They stand before a small, raised dais listening to a tall man in a gray suit speak. Most hold wine glasses in their hands, and all are dressed fashionably. A small ensemble plays their music to the side of them. A few waiters walk about carrying silver trays of hors d’oeuvres and drinks. You count six security guards in the general premise.

 

“A perfect time for an entrance,” Loki comments. His sapphire eyes analyze the world below.

 

A waiter steps up to you and the prince and offers a drink, which you take gladly. Loki simple waves him off. As you sip on the bubbly liquid, a familiar prickling runs down your neck and alerts your mind to a known presence.

 

“Barton and the others have arrived,” you inform the prince, feeling out the band as they move within the shadows. “They’re currently infiltrating the lot and will soon be inside the building.”

 

Applause brings your attention back to the present room. The speaker has finished, and now the crowd is dispersing. The music picks up in tempo, and some are even dancing. The air of festivity rises.

 

“Better get to work then, healer,” Loki states, “or this party shall never start.” He meets your star-filled eyes. “Bring him to me.”

 

You set down your glass and leave it next to the prince before making your way down the elegant stairs. At the bottom, a young man with shining amber eyes and dark hair offers you a welcoming smile. You respond in kind with a charming smile and take his offered hand. The man whispers of your beauty in your ear, and you of course give a melodious laugh, petting his cheek in acknowledgment.

 

As he leads you to the dance floor, your eyes latch onto the man that Barton needs. You’re keeping tabs on the agent’s whereabouts. Soon he’ll be needing that eye. The target is only a few choice men away. So as you place your hand upon your stranger’s shoulder and let him take your waist, your smile grows all the more… _enticing_.

 

Now unbeknownst to every human in the building, you are no human – not even a “mere” being – but something far more powerful. The energy flowing in your mind urges you forward, to _use_ that power of yours.

 

With every swing of the music notes, you sway with your oblivious partner and slowly let your reach grow. With your gloved hand in the man’s, you stretch your influence over him. It’s not hard. He’s already under the influence of alcohol which only leaves him even more open and vulnerable to you.

 

You smile coyly, your very presence allures him. You move yourself with him. All he knows is the draw he feels towards you. He feels compelled to obey the orders you subtly project onto him. And all too soon you’re the one directing his steps and motions. His presence is yours.

 

Everyone else is aware of your presence among them. They feel you there as they watch you move, but you feel each of them _acutely_ , as they twitch and breathe.

 

In a twirl, you reach out for another man nearby who eagerly whisks you away. He’s tall and thin and doesn’t seem to smile much, but you can see in his eyes how he watches you. You easily maneuver him deeper through the dancing crowd. Couples closest to you move in sync with your directions and patterns. In another extension, you find your next partner to move onto. Onlookers have gathered closer, drawn in by the unexpected spectacle.

 

Finally, you come upon the elegant, blond man that Barton showed you on the tablet. It doesn’t take more than a smile and playful tug to bring him from his conversation. He was not originally dancing, but now he finds himself guiding you through the floor. The music notes seem to lead him back the way you came. The crowd creates a pathway for you to glide through. And at the very end, when the song brings itself to a close, you take your victim’s hand and twist it nasty crack behind his back.

 

He lets out a cry of pain and surprise as you shove him forward. The music stops on a jarring note as the crowd gasps. When you see the prince, you release the man’s hand and slam your own into his back. He stumbles forward only to get caught in the face by Loki’s cane.

 

Several women shriek in fright as he falls to the ground. Loki grabs him by the collar of his shirt and drags him up to the sculpture at the center of the room. He slams the man onto the flat stone, winding the guy, and pulls out a metal device. Upon triggering it, it becomes a whirling, metal claw.

 

Now not only are women shrieking and screaming, but men are shouting orders to each other about doing something.

 

You whirl around to face the crowd and summon your staff. You send one of the guards flying back with it as he tries running at you. Behind you, Loki drives the device into the man’s eye, which draws out his shrieks of agonizing pain. Barton, on the other hand, is gaining calm access to the building’s secure interior.

 

Two more security guards run at Loki. You dash around and catch them. With a few quick knocks, you have them on the ground unconscious. When the job is done, Loki tears the contraption away and lets the man fall to the ground. A mess of blood turns the lovely marble floor red.

 

The screaming crowd rushes up the stairs. The leftover security guards usher them through the doors while nervously keeping an eye on you two.

 

Loki watches the chaos with a twisted smile. His glowing eyes are bright with excitement. He makes to follow them up the stairs, golden cane swinging at his side. “Come, healer,” the Emerald Prince orders, “the sheep must be rounded.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Party-Crashing Part 1 has finished!
> 
> Party-Crashing Part 2 coming up! xD


	6. A Shattered Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas post! xD
> 
> Happy Holidays, friends!
> 
> Best of wishes to all as your year comes to an end!
> 
> :)

You step outside the marble museum to look on the screaming, scrambling people.

 

Loki’s tall figure becomes shrouded in his emerald magic as his earthly clothes return to his princely regalia. His golden, horned helm decorates his head, and the cane returns to its original scepter form. The blue gem glows eerily bright.

 

Blaring sirens and alarms disrupt the calm, night air as police cars drive up.

 

Loki lifts the gleaming scepter and a bolt of striking, blue energy blasts through the air. It bashes the cars and sends them tumbling and crashing.

 

People scramble back in their rising hysterics.

 

“Kneel before me!” the prince exclaims over the ruckus. But the order goes unheard and unfollowed. Suddenly, in a flash of green, copies of the Emerald Prince appear, encircling the crowd. They each wield a scepter of their own.

 

“I. Said. **_Kneel_**!” rings the thunderous command.

 

At first this brings a fearful hush from the guests. Then slowly they drop to their knees, all eyes upon the speaking prince, who is decorated in emerald and gold, helm and scepter demanding their compliance. Regal and powerful.

 

You step up to Loki’s side and let your electric-blue eyes roam over the crowd. You’re prepared to catch anyone that decides to leave.

 

“Is this not simpler?” Loki begins with great revelry in his voice, taking a step closer. “The natural state for your kind, the unspoken truth of humanity, to have your knees bent and heads bowed low before another.” He pauses to survey those below him. “Life’s greatest lie, the illusion of freedom that sits before you while you all scramble for power, for identity. When in reality, you are simply a people made to be ruled. And in the end, you will always kneel.”

 

 _Humans have such little power_ , you think quietly to yourself. You watch how they all stay on their knees before the smiling prince. _They submit. They don’t fight_.

 

And in that glorious moment for Loki, an older gentleman rises from the ground. He meets the prince’s eyes with proud dignity and simply states, “Not to _you_.”

 

Something resonates in your heart. There’s a flutter there. But it’s quickly snuffed out by Loki’s mocking laughter. And you remember what you do. “Should I take care of him?” you ask.

 

“Hardly worth it,” he replies coolly. Loki sets his eyes on the man, a dangerous glint making them brighter than normal. “If you wish to volunteer as an example, so be it.” Loki lifts the scepter, blue energy building. “Look to your elder, mortals!”

 

Suddenly a loud, chopping noise interrupts the night air, sending your eyes to the skies above. An aircraft flies into the vicinity garnering the people’s attention, shedding a spotlight on the scene.

 

But in that moment, Loki releases the blast of fiery blue, eyes alight.

 

Suddenly a figure drops from above and deflects the energy. And it’s coming straight back.

 

You immediately send up a shield to protect Loki and yourself. After the blue explosion ends, you call it off and peer upon the culprit. And your heart stammers.

 

A man dressed in a dark-blue uniform with a white star on its chest stands among the crowd. He wears a helmet and dark-brown combat boots. But most noticeably, he bears a round shield of red, white, and blue.

 

The Quinjet’s cocking of its guns at Loki draws your attention away for a split second. You hardly notice how you’re gripping your skirt.

 

“The soldier,” Loki announces.

 

 _Steve_ , your heart breathes.

 

“The man out of time.” Loki’s copies return to their master, emphasizing his presence before the soldier. “Delightful to officially make your acquaintance.”

 

Sharp prickling assaults the back of your mind as memories threaten to push through, of a day when the prince watched you give a grand celebration. Your mind blocks the images to stop the pain.

 

“Can’t say I share the sentiment,” Captain Steven Rogers replies shortly. His sky-blue eyes find your own for a second, sending a ripple through your heart. “Doesn’t sit well, seeing a man standing above everyone else,” the captain continues. “Didn’t sit well last time I was in Germany, either. Let her go. We’re not going to let you hurt these people, or anyone else.”

 

“Loki, drop the weapon and stand down,” comes a female voice from the Quinjet above. She is projected through a com system. “This ends now,” she commands.

 

“Demanding, aren’t they?” Loki asks amused as he glances over at you.

 

“They are,” you reply as your mind fortifies itself.

 

The captain’s jaw ticks. “Star, I know you’re in there,” Steve beckons carefully. His legs spread into a ready position as he brings his shield up.

 

Your heart patters rapidly in your chest, and it makes your stomach flutter.

 

And then Loki points his scepter at the soldier and releases another blast.

 

The energy calls you back into action as you summon your staff.

 

So much happens all at once. Steve deflects the blast. People scream and run away. And the female agent shoots at Loki.

 

You send up a shield and let the bullets ricochet back at them. Agent Romanoff attempts to maneuver the jet out of your trajectory, but you simply adjust your shield to frustrate her and keep her from getting closer.

 

A blast of blue catches your attention. You turn just in time to see Steve throwing his shield at Loki. The prince bashes it in your direction with his scepter. You manage to catch the disc before it breaks your ribs.

 

Steve calls your name but is quickly engaged in hand-to-hand with Loki to follow through. You take the spangled shield, remove your own from the air, and throw it at the Quinjet. With remarkable accuracy, you knock out their right set of guns, completely throwing them off.

 

The shield bounces off, only to be caught by Steve again. Loki finishes the job and takes out the left set of guns with a blast of energy. Agent Romanoff backs the jet away to keep from being shot down.

 

You whip around and face the captain, staff at the ready.

 

He meets your glowing eyes, concern in his own. He speaks your name gently, and it tears something within your heart with a painful sting. And it escapes through your lips. “Steve,” you choke out, pain slamming into the back of your head. “You need to get out of here.”

 

Loki strides in. “Oh, come now, healer,” he chides, “he’s just arrived.” The glow of the scepter lights the prince’s face eerily.

 

“Let her go, Loki,” Steve demands.

 

“What if I refuse to?”

 

“I’m not leaving without her.”

 

There’s another searing tear at your heart, and pain floods through your head.

 

“Such a hero,” Loki mocks. “Healer!”

 

You launch forward, staff spinning.

 

Steve blocks each blow as he steps backwards. “Come on, Star, this isn’t you,” Steve calls. “Come back. Come home.”

 

Images beat the blue walls of your mind. You let out a whimper as your heart further breaks. “Please stop,” you plead as you jam the butt of your staff between his feet and yank back hard.

 

Loki’s laughter reverberates in your mind as he watches the captain fall back. “You can’t win her back, Captain,” the prince smugly informs Steve. He continues the fight personally.

 

You grip the sides of your head as two wills battle inside. Shimmering light grows around your heart. Sapphire fire burns your thoughts.

 

Steve yells out your name. “Listen to me, Starlight! You’re stronger than his control.”

 

Your bleeding heart rebels, throbbing, pounding, _demanding_ release. A scream escapes your lips as you grasp the left side of your head.

 

After throwing Loki off, Steve calls for you, but immediately stops as he gazes upon your face. The beautiful face he’s come to love, it’s now contorted in pain and… illuminated.

 

The electric-blue still decorates your right eye, but your left eye now shines with the shimmering gold of your light.

 

“Starlight,” he whispers.

 

A dark chuckle rumbles in Loki’s chest. “You are snuffing out your darling star, Captain,” the prince presses. “Finish him.”

 

Against your heart’s screaming will, you summon throwing knives and unleash them upon Steve – volley after volley after volley.

 

Steve knocks them away and ducks from the head attack you rush at him. He catches your knee with his foot and takes you down. You stop his shield from crushing you by barring it with your staff. “I’m not leaving here without you,” he promises.

 

Another wave of light bursts through you. It courses angrily through your bloodstream. Your hands begin to glow. A shimmer gleams from your chest.

 

“Stop listening to him. Get him out of your mind. Come back to me.”

 

The hammering pain in your head makes you scream. You shift your feet onto his stomach and kick him off then roll away.

 

Loki laughs, watching the spectacle. “You cannot win,” he declares. The prince knows of the depth the scepter has imbedded itself into your mind. Even as he sees how your strange light emanates from your hands, your feet, and your heart, you **will** obey him.

 

Steve stands back up and sees how your light radiates from your body. But it’s your blue eye that concerns him, not this unnatural display of your power.

 

Loki sends a blast at the captain, which very nearly gets him. You block the deflected energy with your light. The prince continues to press on.

 

Steve cries your name. “Sweetheart,” he pleads. “ _Starlight, **please**_!”

 

Your wretched heart weeps another wave of light that rattles your mind. Screaming, you grip your head.

 

Suddenly, an earth-shuddering shriek pierces through the fog of it all. It’s a sound that can make buildings crumble.

 

Three pairs of eyes turn to the source.

 

And that’s all you can take.

 

“ ** _No_**.”

 

_No. No. No. **NO!**_

 

Pain rips a shriek from your throat. Your heart swells, ready to explode, but in that moment, one of the worst things happens – your mind

 

Shatters.

 

And you **scream**.

 

The dome of sapphire flames that’s entrapped your mind this entire time _breaks_ into a million pieces.

 

And then it is sucked out – light, images, sounds, dread and all.

 

 _Tom_.

 

Then all at once, your world vanishes into the deepest depths of darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter - a bit intense - but I hope you've enjoyed it! ^_^
> 
> Don't forget to keep up with the sister fic this is connected to - [Of Twisted Emotions](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12209553/chapters/27728793) \- see how Reader's best friend Thomasin gets caught up in all this mess!


	7. Picking Up the Pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, friends!
> 
> May your 2018 readings be amazing!
> 
> ^_^

 

Steve watches in stunned horror as you collapse onto the courtyard. He yells for you as he rips off his helmet and runs to your side. The shield clangs as it hits the floor beside you. Steve carefully turns you to face up. He calls your name desperately. “Starlight.” He taps your face lightly as worry seeps further and further into his mind.

 

You are ghostly pale, practically ashen. Dark purple shadows mark the skin beneath your eyes. Your body feels cool to the touch. And you lie disturbingly still.

 

You look like death.

 

 _No, she looks... **dead**_. Steve immediately erases the thought from his mind. You can’t be dead. He won’t let that be! “Star, sweetheart, wake up, _please_.”

 

Suddenly a woman stumbles into your midst, tears flooding her face. Her frantic eyes pore over the scene.

 

Defensively, Steve wonders who this woman is. She doesn’t look much like you, but from the way she watches you, she obviously knows who you are. She's dressed in the same leather pants you wore before this moment, and she carries a pack almost identical to the one you always keep on your person. In a moment of clarity, he recalls how you turned your mismatched eyes away from him to look on someone else, and how your countenance changed before the flash. There was recognition in your features.

 

This must be your friend, Thomasin. Tom, as you call her in your endearing way.

 

“Can you help her at all?” Steve asks the woman in his growing panic, but she doesn’t seem to hear him.

 

Time is slipping, and you’ve not moved. Tears threaten to overtake Steve, but he shoves them back. His chest is tight, though.

 

Suddenly the air changes, almost becomes restricting. It’s being... **swallowed**  by the darkness that pools at the woman’s hand. Pure rage mars her features, and it’s about to expand. She's not going to leave anything.

 

Steve can practically hear the ticking down of the bomb. In seconds, everything will be gone. Everything he fought for… will be all for naught. _Again_.

 

Her darkness spreads over her body, growing in power and mass. There’s hardly anymore air to breathe in.

 

And in his last bit of desperation, Steve watches your chest.

 

To his utter amazement, _it rises!_

 

His fingers immediately go to your neck, and he **waits** for a painful, breathless moment.

 

_There it is! A heartbeat!_

 

“She’s alive,” Steve declares. The tight pressure in his chest dies away. He can breathe again.

 

Next to him, the woman’s dark power recedes, and her arm lowers. She looks ready to pass out.

 

Steve meets her hard, steely eyes. “Easy there. She’s alive,” he assures your friend. “She’s alive,” he repeats as his blue eyes return to his fallen star. "She lives."

 

Thomasin folds into herself as a sob escapes her chest and wracks her shaken body.

 

Steve watches your shallow, yet steady, breathing. A strange, faint glow of light encompasses your heart. It brightens and fades to the rhythm of your heartbeats. Watching it gives Steve hope for your recovery.

 

“I don’t know about you, but I’d love an explanation for all this,” says a mechanized voice from behind. It’s accompanied by heavy, clanking footsteps.

 

Steve huffs a quiet sigh. “Stark,” he greets without turning away from you.

 

“Captain,” Tony Stark answers.

 

 _Why is he here?_ Steve wonders. He’s slowly becoming aware of the world around him once more. The Quinjet is no longer in the air, and the crowd still watches. Their nosiness irks him. But all he can really focus on is your prone form lying on the ground. He decides to distract himself by removing the torn gloves on your hands.

 

Murmurs give way to a cool, collected voice. “There’s less of an audience on the jet,” Natasha states. “Fury says we need to clear out. Loki and his team are long gone.”

 

Steve takes your bare hand in his. It holds no warmth and no strength. It just lies there in his. “She’s not waking up, Natasha,” he tells her softly. There’s still so much fear for your life in him.

 

“Let’s get her out of here,” Natasha replies. The red-haired agent turns her sharp eyes onto your quiet friend. “And you?” she questions, point blank.

 

Steve turns his eyes to her. The poor woman looks pale and wiped out, wet cheeks and all.

 

Thomasin sniffs and replies, voice rough and broken, “I go where she goes.”

 

Agent Romanoff looks to Captain Rogers.

 

Steve gently lifts you into his arms, and your friend quickly rises to her feet. You’re no more than a rag doll in his hands, limp and silent. “They stay together,” he confirms. He looks to Thomasin. “Would you mind grabbing my shield?”

 

Your friend regards the spangled disc cautiously before deciding to snatch it up. If it means staying at your side, Tom will do it.

 

~*~

 

After the jet settles inside the hangar of the Helicarrier, Steve slings his shield onto his back and picks you up once more. He hurries inside and makes his way to the suite he’s settled in. Thomasin sticks to his heels, never letting you out of her sight.

 

Everyone moves out of their way. Natasha heads out to find Director Fury. Stark lets himself be distracted by the mechanics of the massive hovercraft they’re on.

 

The suite is just an expanded bedroom that has a bathroom connected to it. Upon entering, to the right is a small kitchenette. Next to it, against the adjacent wall lays a door that leads to the small bathroom. On the far wall sits a made-up bed. There’s a chest at its foot with a set of duffel bags sitting on top. Lastly, there’s a couch against the fourth wall that brings the whole space together.

 

There’s nothing extravagant about it all. It’s gray, it’s tidy, it’s military. And as Steve sets you down on the bed in your torn dress and disarrayed hair, he can’t help but note the colorful mess you are among it all. He finds the description rather true to who you are. In a wistful thought, he thinks on how you wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

Steve does his best to accommodate your sleeping form in any way he can. Your unresponsive state wears at his worried heart more and more. Finally, he’s just left to run a hand through his blond hair as he stares down at you. His eyes catch the necklace he gifted you last year. It still settles against your rising and falling chest. Steve fingers the familiar design the way you do. He’s amazed its not more worn down from your constant fiddling.

 

This moves Steve’s attention to the little bag that you perpetually wear. Carefully, he removes it from underneath you. He feels the familiar weight of your journal and trinkets inside, though he doesn't open it. Unsure of what to do with it, Steve decides to leave it next to your side on the bed. If you wake, he knows you’ll panic if you can’t find it.

 

Seeing these familiar things gives Steve some room to mentally relax. If you still have these things on you, he knows it means that you’re still you. Regardless of what happened, you mustn’t have changed. He steps back and lets his tired eyes run over your sleeping self again. You’re safe, and for now, you are alive. That’s all that matters to Steve. Now, they just have to wait for you to wake up. And, oh, how Steve longs to see your lovely eyes again – your true eyes.

 

The captain’s own sky-blue eyes find your friend sitting on the couch. She stares blankly at you in the bed. Her face is pale, and she unknowingly worries her lips. Steve clears his throat to gather her attention.

 

The woman’s eyes are all steel again as she meets him with a guarded glare.

 

“I’m Steve Rogers,” he introduces himself with an extended hand.

 

She regards the open palm with clear disdain. “Thomasin,” she replies shortly.

 

Steve retracts his hand, taking what he can get out of this in stride. “It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. She talks a lot about you.” His eyes fall on your face for a moment. “She’s missed you.”

 

When he looks back at your friend, he finds her hands in fists pressing hard into her lap and shining eyes. Steve kindly looks away to give her some privacy with her thoughts and emotions. As he does, he spots the bags on the chest. He steps closer to grab the larger one, and then steps back to provide some space between himself and the woman.

 

“Before I left, Carla packed some clothes for her,” Steve tells Thomasin. “If you’d like to rummage through and find something to change into, I doubt she would mind. Feel free to use the bathroom and shower as you wish.”

 

He pauses as he figures out what else he wants to add. “Umm, get some rest,” he finally says. “I’ll check back in sometime tomorrow.” Steve turns and reaches the door in a few, long strides. Before he exits, he glances back one last time. “Please let me know if she wakes.”

 

Steve takes his leave and closes the door behind him softly. In the hallway, he leans against the wall a moment to breathe and run a hand over his exhausted face. He tries to search for that connection you created with him long ago. He tries pulling on it for the hundredth time. But he still feels nothing.

 

You're not there to receive him.

 

He breathes out heavily. _Please come back_.

 

~*~

 

Director Fury storms around the conference table where Maria Hill, Natasha Romanoff, and Phil Coulson sit around. “Is nothing going to go according to plan?” Nick asks in a huff. He paces to work through his thoughts.

 

“We weren’t expecting any of these extra factors,” Phil tries to soothe.

 

“Not to mention that we seem to have interrupted a personal feud in all this,” Natasha adds.

 

The director scoffs with a rolling of his dark eye. “Those girls are gonna be the death of me somehow,” he comments as he stands before the small crowd. “The girl assured me her shadow friend wouldn’t be back. Yet here we are.” He waves a gloved band to emphasize his point.

 

“So, what now?” Maria interjects after a moment’s pause.

 

Nick sets his fists on the table and turns his eye to the red woman. “Natasha,” he calls.

 

“Sir,” she replies.

 

“I need you to bring the big guy in.”

 

She raises a red brow. “Bruce Banner?”

 

“That’s right. Right now, he’s our best shot at figuring anything out.”

 

Natasha leans back in her chair. “Is that why you brought _this_ Helicarrier?”

 

Nick straightens. “It’s part of the reason. I might need to talk to those girls to see if I need a _different_ reason.”

 

“I doubt Rogers will be too keen on that.”

 

“You don’t need to worry about the captain. Fetch Banner. We’re already on this side of the world; it’ll make the trip shorter for you,” Nick states. He addresses Phil next. “I need you to talk to Stark. Get him to play nice. Because right now we need him on our side.”

 

Phil nods, understanding the weight of his task.

 

“Speaking of which,” Maria puts in, “where _is_ Stark?”

 

~*~

 

Footsteps alert him to an approaching presence.

 

Captain Rogers quickly straightens himself, adjusting the shield on his back, and waits for the visitor. Much to his blatant disappointment, it’s Tony Stark.

 

“Rogers,” Tony starts when he spots the blond captain, “there you are! Just the man I was looking for.”

 

“What do you want, Stark?” Steve quips, exhausted and irritated.

 

The dark-haired man saunters up to the stone-faced captain. “I need someone to tell me _what the fuck_ is going on.”

 

The sky-blue eyes cut into the man before him. “This doesn’t concern you.”

 

“Oh, I beg to differ, Rogers. It certainly does _now_.”

 

Steve meets Tony’s dark eyes levelly. “How did you even get here?” he asks Tony.

 

Stark points at the door Steve just walked out. “That-that- _girl_!”

 

Steve takes a threatening step closer.

 

“No, not your girl,” Tony retorts. “The other one!”

 

“That’s her best friend, Stark,” Steve explains in a low tone.

 

Tony slaps a hand over his face in exasperation. “Of course, she is! Of course! They go together. Why wouldn’t they? Do you know what that woman can _do_!”

 

Steve doesn’t grace him with an answer.

 

“She opened a-a-a _door_ and walked through _darkness_ – fucking **darkness** , Rogers! I thought your girl was already a science project gone wrong, but _that_ – that is something else. And who the hell was antler guy? What happened back there? What is going on?”

 

“Why are you asking me?” Steve asks instead of answering.

 

“Because everywhere I look, you’re in the middle of it all, _Captain_ ,” Stark remarks.

 

Steve lets out a frustrated breath through his nostrils. “I’m sorry to disappoint, Stark, but I’m only here for-”

 

“Yeah, your girl,” Tony interrupts, annoyed. “I know. I get it. But-”

 

The captain takes a step closer to the billionaire, interjecting. “ _And her friend_. They are both under my protection,” Steve practically growls, blue eyes hard and serious. “Don’t go near them.”

 

Tony squares off to the decorated captain. “Or what, Cap? You’ll throw that frisbee at me?”

 

“I’m being serious, Stark.”

 

The two men stand practically nose to nose as they challenge each other.

 

A new set of footsteps approach, breaking the tense silence.

 

Steve and Tony take a step back, pent-up frustrations released in a breath.

 

Agent Phil Coulson appears with his usual cordial smile. “Ah, Mr. Stark,” he begins, “I’ve been searching for you.”

 

Tony throws the agent his winning grin. “Agent Coulson,” he greets.

 

“Could I interest you in some new technology of ours? We think you might enjoy taking it for a spin.”

 

“Sounds lovely. Lead the way!”

 

Agent Coulson hold outs a hand to lead Stark away, but before he leaves, he addresses Steve. “Captain, is there anything I could get you?” he asks, his face softening.

 

Steve shakes his head. “I’m retiring for the night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

Captain Rogers then turns and walks away to the next suite down the hall. He steps inside and takes a seat on the couch, setting his bag down, and removing the shield from his back. His weary shoulders sag as he sets his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. Emotional, mental, and physical exhaustion catches up and takes its toll at full price.

 

Steve misses your unique ability to settle his anxious mind and heart with just your very presence. He misses your touch and soft way of being. Ultimately, Steve Rogers misses his precious Starlight.

 

After what seems like a lifetime of sitting in his emotions, Steve forces himself to rise from the couch. He strips out of his Captain America uniform and grabs his bag. After locking himself away in the bathroom, he gives himself the freedom to rest within a long, hot shower.

 

The comfort of the water running down his back and chest works through the tension in his body. His mind wanders to the times he’s enjoyed your soothing touch and affectionate loving. He knows how you move like the water you control – easily and intimately. You press to him the way it does and become a part of his skin. Steve needs that river-like vitality you give him... desperately.

 

Unfortunately, you are out of reach of his grasp.

 

Steve shuts off the water, dries himself, and dresses. He lies back in bed with you on his mind. But soon he falls into a deep sleep, exhaustion claiming him for its own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a general heads-up, I'm starting my new semester in grad school (woohoo!), which means a heavy load of homework (boo!). I've been managing the posts fairly well with manageable gaps between chapters, and I hope to get to keep up this general pace. But if things get delayed, just have some patience with me - they will come! ;)
> 
> Thank you to anyone and everyone that reads!! I love getting to produce this story for y'all! You are amazing, and I hope you all have lovely times! ^_^
> 
> <3


	8. Throwing Shade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the shade lol

 

Agent Romanoff eyes your foreign friend one last time before shrugging her off and turning. “Thanks for your time,” she calls back to Thomasin, and walks away. She heads for her room to gear up. As much as it doesn’t sit well with Natasha, she has to let go of thinking of Barton’s release. She checks her guns and stows away the spare ammo on her person. If she can get Barton back, she can and _will_ find a way of reclaiming his mind. But, first, they must catch Loki, and for that, she needs to fetch the Big Guy.

 

~*~

 

Steve searches his surroundings. Thick foliage infiltrates his view. Dark clouds roll heavily up above the green canopy, foreboding and unyielding.

 

 _Steve_.

 

A tug in his core spurs Steve to press into the greenery. He shoves branches aside and pushes through the dense environment. He’s never been here before. He doesn’t recognize this place. But the pressure in his chest directs his feet.

 

 _Come_.

 

Steve’s feet dig harder into the ground. He no longer cares that branches and vines entangle him. He barrels his way through, until he finally breaks out into a vast field of flowers. He circles around, frantically searching for the source that summons him forth.

 

But there’s no one around. No one is there.

 

But there should be. Something about the place feels familiar. A swift wind blows through, like a the ghost of a presence is reaching out.

 

Steve stands within the circular grove. His sky-blue eyes scour the tree line, but he sees nothing. The storm clouds continue to roll above in their gray waves. He glances down, and the flowers themselves catch his eye.

 

The flowers run in colored rings toward the center of the circle. Red. White. Red.

 

Steve steps closer to the center.

 

Blue flowers are interrupted by a white expanse of flowers.

 

Steve gives the circular field another look, until his mind finally understands – it’s his shield. Now he doesn’t know how, but he knows you’ve made this. You built this, and it’s for him. Steve makes his way to the very center of the star. _You_ are the one that's supposed to be here.

 

Suddenly, a force presses upon his chest that steals his breath.

 

 _Wait for me_ …

 

 _I will be back_ …

 

 _Don’t forget about me_ ….

 

The clouds grow dark with a promising storm, suffocating the air.

 

 _Steve_.

 

~*~

 

Steve’s body jumps as he wakes. He gasps for breath as he feels a pressure release his chest. He quickly sits up, throwing off the covers, and works to regain his senses.

 

It was you. You were there. Or, at least, you were supposed to be. Your presence lingers there.

 

Steve runs a hand over his face as your name escapes his lips in a quiet whisper. He stands from the bed and enters the bathroom. After he washes his face with chilly water, he stares at himself in the square mirror. The purple shadows under his eyes mark his exhaustion. He towels his face off, combs his hair, and goes to get dressed for the day. He puts on a pair of jeans, a gray T-shirt, and his leather jacket on top.

 

Steve steps out of the room and into the hallway. He can hear activity around him. Before he reaches your room, a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent jogs up to him.

 

“Captain Rogers,” he salutes.

 

“Sir,” Steve greets. “What time is it?”

 

“Just past dawn. The sun is on the rise.”

 

Steve nods. No wonder he still feels so tired. The time change hasn’t allotted for proper sleep, nor have the troublesome activities.

 

“Director Fury would like to speak with you, Captain. He’s holding a debrief meeting promptly. But first, he’d like to talk to the girl – the one who’s awake.”

 

He nods again. “We’ll be there soon.”

 

“Yes, Captain.” The agent turns and heads back from whence he came.

 

Steve sighs and knocks on the door. When he receives no answer, he knocks again. With still no answer, Steve opens the door and steps inside.

 

You lay peacefully in your bed. You’ve not moved a centimeter. Traces of light still flow through your veins, but you are not awake.

 

A deep frown pulls at Steve’s lips. He had so dearly hoped….

 

Muttering reaches his ears.

 

Steve’s eyes fall upon your friend’s face.

 

She still lies on the couch, sleeping... roughly. Her facial features are scrunched with apprehension. Unfathomable words pass her lips, and her body twists uncomfortably. She looks to be having a nightmare.

 

Steve leans over Thomasin and shakes her shoulder. “Thomasin,” he calls to her. “Thomasin.” When she doesn’t wake, panic sprouts in Steve’s chest. He shakes her more insistently. “Thomasin, please wake up,” he urges. He can’t have both of them gone! “Thomasin!”

 

Suddenly she sits up, gasping frantically as her eyes dart about chaotically.

 

Steve backs up quickly. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes with raised hands. “I knocked and there was no reply. You were muttering, but you wouldn’t wake up.” His eyes immediately fall back on you. As much as he hates seeing you continue sleeping, he’s relieved to find that your friend is awake.

 

“No, no, I’m… I’m fine,” she replies hoarsely. “I’m awake.” Using the palm of her hand, she swipes at her face quickly.

 

Steve turns from her to give her some privacy and approaches you on the bed. He sits himself on the edge and lifts your small hand.

 

“How long has it been?” your friend asks him.

 

He rubs some warmth into your skin. “It’s barely dawn,” he answers. “Time zone change has us all a little… off schedule. But I was hoping she’d…” … _be awake_. Steve links his fingers with your own. Seeing how small your hand is in his only makes him want to protect you all the more.

 

“She was always an early riser,” Thomasin notes softly, watching. “Earlier than me, at least.”

 

Steve doesn’t know how to reply. As his eyes roam over your face, he just remembers how he always wakes before you. His mornings have been full of waiting for you to walk in with your mussed hair and sleepy eyes to then proceed to snuggle up against him on the couch.

 

“You really do care about her.”

 

Steve meets your friend’s eyes. “I really do,” he admits aloud to her. He watches Thomasin tighten herself into a ball on the couch as she hugs her legs to her chest.

 

“She’s told me about you,” Thomasin continues. “Showed me your picture a few times. Said you’re some kinda super hero.”

 

He scoffs and can’t help but give you a look. “She didn’t say it like that,” he counters, quite assure of his statement.

 

Your friend shrugs.

 

Steve simply rolls his eyes. “‘Super hero’ is a big exaggeration.” Though to think that you spoke of him so highly to your dear friend makes Steve feel warm in his core.

 

“It’s what I got out of it. Didn’t recognize you with the helmet on yesterday. Granted, there was a… lot going on at the time.”

 

The corner of Steve’s mouth pulls into a grimace, but he still nods in agreement. “Understandable.”

 

A time of silence passes between them as they each sit in their thoughts.

 

“I don’t know if we’re going to get along, Steve,” Thomasin suddenly states bluntly as she rubs her eyes.

 

While Steve doesn’t anticipate the remark, he appreciates her honesty. At least he can understand where he stands with the woman.

 

“But whether we do or not… thanks,” she adds. “For loving my friend. And being good to her. And all that romantic shit…. She likes that kind of stuff.”

 

Completely caught off guard and rather unsure of how to take her strange compliment, Steve lets out an awkward laugh. He finds it interesting to get to know this different side of you from your cherished friend. “I do love her,” he says. “I thought… I thought I’d lost her. But you know, you’re the reason she’s back, so really, I should be thanking you.”

 

“I didn’t… I…” But Thomasin stops and hides her face in her knees. “She’s not back,” she admits in dejection.

 

“Don’t,” Steve interjects. “Don’t do that to yourself.” He knows you wouldn’t want her to. But your friend doesn’t meet his eyes, neither does she say anymore. As much as he wants to console her, he’s not sure how. He decides it’s better to simply keep quiet.

 

Steve’s eyes trace your delicate features once more, his thumb rubbing the top of your hand. He doesn’t want to leave you, but there’s things to be done. He squeezes your hand and lets out a heavy sigh. _Come back_.

 

Steve sets your warm hand back on the bed and stands once more. He braces himself so that he can exit the room. He hates leaving you, but for the time being, it must be done. Steve looks at Thomasin. “Fury wants to talk to you,” he states. “Director Fury.”

 

Her brows furrow in confusion. “Right now?” she questions.

 

He nods.

 

~*~

 

After Steve escorts Thomasin to Director Fury, he is shown to the conference room where others are gathered. Tony Stark casually makes conversation with Maria Hill and Phil Coulson. They all sit at a conference table eating breakfast.

 

When Steve’s presence becomes known to the group, Agent Coulson quickly rises from his chair to greet him. “Good morning, Captain,” Phil begins with his usual, cheery smile.

 

“Morning,” Steve greets in return.

 

“Care for some breakfast?” Phil motions to a long table to the side with various breakfast foods spread out upon it.

 

Steve walks over with the man and serves himself breakfast. He joins Phil at the table, conveniently leaving a chair between himself and Stark. He eats his breakfast quietly.

 

“So, how are you doing this morning, sir?” Phil Coulson asks Steve.

 

“As well as I can be,” he replies to the agent.

 

Phil nods his understanding. “Any progress on…” But his words drift off as the captain shakes his head. “I’m sorry. Is there anything we could do to help?”

 

Steve meets the man’s genuinely concerned gaze. “Not unless you have a way of waking someone up from a coma,” he answers dryly.

 

“Well, we could always try a defibrillator,” Coulson jokes lightly.

 

Steve’s blue eyes widen in great fear as he imagines sending bolts of electricity through your body.

 

The wheels on a chair squeak as Tony leans back to glance at the two men. “I don’t think that’s how that works, Agent,” he remarks to Phil.

 

Agent Coulson awkwardly rubs his chin. “My apologies.”

 

Steve waves him off. “I appreciate the concern, but it’s dependent on her. She’s her own best chance.”

 

“And how will that work, Captain?” Maria Hill asks.

 

“I’m not sure.” He meets her serious gaze. “I just know she’s capable of it.”

 

Tony pops a blueberry in his mouth. “Speaking of capabilities, what exactly _are_ those two capable of? I don’t recall your lady friend being able to teleport,” he says to the group. He glances at the two agents and asks, “Were you aware of this?”

 

Maria and Phil exchange knowing glances. “We are not yet at freedom to discuss anything regarding the two women,” Phil responds diplomatically. “When Director Fury arrives, he will let you get the information you need.”

 

This does nothing to sway Stark on his stance. He turns his brown eyes on the captain, who is busy eating his breakfast. “How much more do you know, Rogers?” Stark prods.

 

Steve lifts his sky-blue eyes to the man. “Probably no more than you do, Stark,” he answers.

 

“Uh huh.” Tony pops another blueberry in. “And doesn’t that bug you?”

 

Steve keeps a straight face before returning to his food. Stark’s statement doesn’t sit well in Steve’s stomach. He wants to trust the director, but as things keep changing, it’s becoming harder.

 

Tony pulls out his phone and taps away at it to distract his ever-running mind. Steve finishes his breakfast and rests back in his chair, waiting. The two agents hold a civil conversation over some random agent they know. On occasion, Agent Hill will tap on the tablet she keeps on the table before her.

 

It’s some time later that heavy footsteps can be heard coming down the hallway.

 

Steve turns his chair and watches as Thomasin and Director Fury enter the room. For the first time that morning, Steve notices the Asgardian leathers paired with one of your blue shirts that your friend wears. He’s grown so accustomed to seeing a distinct set of leathers on you that this makes her stick out even more.

 

Stark swivels around and greets the two. “Oh, look, they’re here! Morning! You’re late.”

 

“We’re on my time here,” Fury counters in his strict manner. “I’m not late – you’re all early.” He strides to the head of the table and takes his seat.

 

Thomasin sits in the empty chair that lies between Steve and Tony. She slumps in it slightly, as though to not draw attention to herself.

 

Stark whips his chair back around to look at Fury. “Well, I for one think we should get started,” he puts in for the group.

 

The director’s eye glosses over the billionaire and lands on your friend. “Thomasin,” he starts. “This is Maria Hill and Phil Coulson.” Fury motions to the two agents. “You already know Stark and Rogers.”

 

“Oh, yes, we’ve met,” Agent Coulson replies with his cordial smile.

 

Steve raises an eyebrow at the new piece of information.

 

“We… have?” Thomasin asks, looking confused.

 

“New Mexico,” Coulson fills in with a wave of his hand. “Those creatures, Thor, God of Thunder.”

 

 _Ah. He was there_ , Steve thinks to himself.

 

“I mean, we didn’t officially meet, but-”

 

“Fuck those monsters,” Stark interrupts with a jab of his finger at Phil. “One of those freaks ruined my party-”

 

It takes everything within Steve to keep himself from rolling his eyes. **_That’s_** _what concerns you the most about that event?_

 

“This isn’t why we’re here,” Agent Hill intercedes seriously. “New Mexico is in the past. We have new problems to deal with.”

 

“Whoop, you’re right,” Stark agrees readily. “And I believe those problems go by the name ‘Loki’.”

 

“For once, I’ll agree with Stark,” Fury admits, garnering everyone’s attention again. “Let’s talk Germany.”

 

“Actually, this, uh, all starts before Germany,” Stark interjects. “Got people showing up in my tower without knocking,” he continues with a thumb jab at your friend. “S.H.I.E.L.D. having agents go missing, aliens popping up on our planet with superpowers. I mean, come on, guys, are we not going to talk about this?”

 

A dark shadow crosses over Steve’s face. “Start at Germany, Stark,” he insists, arms crossed against his chest.

 

“Yes, beings from other realms have visited Earth,” the director agrees to. “But this one _in particular_ poses a large threat. He’s got a massive energy source at his disposal, and that scepter is nothing to overlook either.”

 

A deep frown overtakes Steve’s mouth. The image of that damned cube is still seared into his mind. “I know he has the Tesseract, but I have no idea where the scepter came from. Unless he just grabbed the both of them on his way out of S.H.I.E.L.D.,” he jabs at Fury.

 

“What now?” Stark remarks, looking between the director and the soldier.

 

“We had nothing to do with the scepter, Rogers,” Fury informs the disapproving soldier.

 

“Okay, wait,” Tony tries again. “ _Tesseract_ , like the glowy, blue, energy cube that Rogers dumped into the ocean?”

 

Steve glares at Stark.

 

“That’s the one, yes,” Agent Hill answers. “We need to know what Loki’s planning regarding the Tesseract.”

 

“Well, he went to Germany for Iridium,” Phil offers up. “He’s building… something.”

 

Steve frowns again. “But the scepter,” he says, “I’ve never seen it before.”

 

“Neither have we,” the director adds. With a raised eyebrow, he turns his one eye upon Thomasin, who has done well to keep quiet among all this. “Unless I’m about to hear differently,” he prods.

 

Thomasin looks like she’s ready to melt into the chair. “Yeah, I’ve seen it before,” she finally states, brows furrowing.

 

Directory Fury rests back in his chair, gloved hands knit together in his lap. “Really? And where might that be exactly? Knowing the origin may help us combat the problem.”

 

Your friend regards the director with a sullen look. “Asgard,” she tells him.

 

“Asgard,” Stark repeats with a scoff. “What a vague answer. And once you take into consideration that the place doesn’t exist, I’d have to go ahead and say you’re lying.”

 

No one says a word as he meets everyone’s serious faces.

 

His brown eyes widen. “Loki,” he repeats. “Like, Norse mythology Loki?”

 

Again, no one answers him, but the answer is clear.

 

“Oh, my God.”

 

There’s a strange, pleasant feeling Steve gets in his gut knowing that he’s not the one most out of the loop.

 

“So, this thing is from Asgard, then?” Agent Hill asks the girl.

 

“Uh, I think so,” Thomasin answers.

 

“Do you know how Loki came to have possession of it?” the director asks.

 

“He kept it after a fight, I think. He’s not, like, the original owner.”

 

“Who was?” Agent Coulson inquires.

 

Thomasin shrugs noncommittally. “I don’t know, he just brought it back,” she answers with an eye roll. “He’s always keeping random shit that he’s won from battle.”

 

This time no one speaks a word, because now they wonder about her personal alignment. Even though Steve knows the answer, he sits there quietly.

 

“What exactly is your connection to this… person,” Director Fury asks. “You seem to know him quite well.”

 

“Well enough to pull a little favor and free Sunshine back there,” Stark remarks.

 

Steve throws him a look.

 

“Yes, I know him,” Thomasin concedes. “Obviously. He’s an Asgardian prince, alright? A lot of people know him.” She takes a pause and for a split second her steely eyes fall upon the soldier.

 

Steve doesn’t offer up any of his personal information. He knows of her relationship with the prince because you’ve told him. But he doubts that either want him to go speaking about it.

 

“Loki disappeared last year,” Thomasin continues. “This is the first time he’s resurfaced.”

 

 _As have you_ , Steve thinks to himself.

 

“So, he wants Earth, then? He’s said as much,” Agent Hill puts in. “He has the Tesseract, and a way to gather followers. Albeit unwilling.”

 

“We don’t have enough information to work off of,” Rogers adds.

 

Stark turns on Thomasin again. “So, wait. You supposedly know this psycho, and we’re just supposed to trust you?”

 

She cuts him with a look. “I’m not working with him, if that’s what you’re implying. He brainwashed my best friend,” she reminds him.

 

Steve can’t help his outward cringe.

 

“Supposedly,” is Tony’s retort.

 

Steve watches your friend mentally wind up for a punch, so he cuts in with a firm shake of his head. “Enough, Stark. I believe her. I’ll vouch for her credibility.” He catches the flicker of surprise that runs through Thomasin’s eyes before it’s quickly covered.

 

“That’s good enough for me!” pipes Agent Coulson with his easy smile. “So, what’s the next step here?”

 

“The next step is finding that bastard,” Thomasin grinds out darkly.

 

Stark and Rogers share a look at your friend’s response.

 

Maria taps on her tablet. “We should pull up street cam feeds from the area around the museum,” she tells them. “We’ll hopefully be able to see where he was headed after the incident.”

 

“Or, _or_!” Stark immediately interjects with a raise of his finger. “We could use facial recognition in an expansive search and figure out where he’s been slinking around.” He flashes a smile. “Won’t take long to set up.”

 

“Fine,” Directory Fury concedes. _Anything to get this search moving_ , he mentally adds.

 

Stark settles himself into his seat comfortably, a satisfied smirk on his face. “Oh, and I’m going to need, uh, a packet of information on this whole situation, like stat,” he says with a snap of his fingers. “Not really appreciating being kept in the dark here, guys. I’ll accept info in paper or digital form. Thanks.”

 

Steve rolls his eyes, but he notices how Coulson gives Fury a small nod.

 

“We’ll reconvene once the scans are done,” the director asserts. He pushes back from the table and rises from the chair. “Stark, we’ll get you set up in a room.”

 

Tony flounces his dark brows at Steve.

 

Not wanting to deal with him anymore, the soldier pushes up and strides out the room. He hurries back to your room, eager to get away from every, honestly. Steve enters your room to find you still lying in bed.

 

The solemn soldier steps up to the bed and perches on its edge. He takes your hand again. His blue eyes trace your face for the umpteenth time. He runs a finger over your nose and cheek. Aside from sitting beside you, Steve cannot feel your presence the way he’s grown used to. He’s starting to wonder if it’ll stay that way.

 

The captain shakes his head, taking himself out of those thoughts. He refuses to give up on you.

 

Steve cradles your cheek and lowers his face to your own, placing the gentlest of kisses on your still lips. “I’m still here for you, Starlight,” he whispers to you. “Don’t forget to keep your promise and come back. I miss you.”

 

Suddenly a thunderous roar shakes the ship.

 

Alarms blare all around. Shouting fills the hallways along with the sound of running boots.

 

Steve releases you carefully and dashes out the room to find out what’s happening. He follows the rush of agents through the halls.

 

Suddenly a voice like lightning strikes the air, bringing the group of befuddled people to a stop.

 

“WARRIOR?! I KNOW YOU ARE HERE! REVEAL YOURSELF! WE HAVE A MISSION TO COMPLETE!”

 

Steve shakes off the electricity that’s suddenly in the air and hurries on. _What the hell is going on!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I've been like literally gone for so long! Classes and homework and everything else have really been keeping me busy.
> 
> But I promise I'm trying to write and update!!!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter :)


	9. Meetings and Greetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guess what?
> 
> I LIVE!!!
> 
> So, here's some more Steve and Co. lol

 

Captain Rogers bursts into the room where the chaos lies.

 

Wind lashes from the broken door. Red streaks mar the lights as sirens and alarms blare. A crowd of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents are gathering and gawking at the strange sight the room holds.

 

Thomasin pulls out of the hold of a great, blond brute dressed in foreign attire… _armor_ , more like.

 

The man is tall, broad, and wears an air of electrifying power. He wears a silver helm with wings rising from its sides. Blond locks of hair leak out around a blond beard, standing out against the dark silver plating of the man’s chest piece. He bears an impressive hammer in his hand, and his red cape whips in the lashing wind. A silver eyepatch settles over one eye, bringing contrast to his apparent blue eye.

 

Even as Fury barks out commands and gets things moving, Steve recognizes the foreigner as the great and mighty _Thor_ , Prince of Asgard – and Loki’s brother. The captain also takes note of how Thomasin swipes her face clear of tears. She stays near the blond god as though she gains strength from his very presence. Steve realizes that she _is_ comfortable with the man. Therefore, seeing no imminent danger, the captain lowers his shield, which he only vaguely recalls running over to his room to retrieve.

 

“Thor,” Director Fury calls in his authoritative voice. Alarms still ring, and the wind still whistles through the holes in the broken doorway, but everyone turns to the man. “Wasn’t really expecting you, but I can’t say I’m surprised.”

 

“You know of me,” the blond god says as he sizes the equally single-eyed director.

 

“Thor?” Tony questions, elbowing Steve. “Like, Thor-Thor?” He makes a sound at the back of his throat. “ _Actual_ -Thor? Asgard-Thor?”

 

 _Yes, Stark, **Thor** , God of Thunder-Thor_. The captain refrains from rolling his eyes and in the meantime misses Thomasin’s initial response.

 

“Eyepatch is the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.,” she explains to Thor, to which even both Stark and Rogers smirk at, despite themselves and the situation.

 

“Director Fury,” the grim director clarifies.

 

The blond man gives a great nod and puts in, “I remember S.H.I.E.L.D.” He glances around the crowded room, appraising the odd situation, though he doesn’t seem to register how it revolves around him. “Quite the crowd, warrior! Although there is no time for pleasantries. We must be off!”

 

“Whoa, wait a second, now,” Captain Rogers quickly interjects, stepping closer.

 

The God of Thunder’s blue eye lands upon the serious captain. “Who are you?” he asks.

 

“Steve Rogers,” the captain answers.

 

But before he can question the god further, a troop of agents swarm the already tight entrance. They attend to the damage done at the door. Using unorthodox machinery foreign to Steve, they begin to repair. The sirens are finally cut off, although the red lights keep swirling above.

 

“My apologies,” Thor tells the construction crew.

 

“Are you here for Loki?” Director Fury calls over the hubbub, drawing the god’s attention.

 

With lifted brows, Thor glances down at the silent Thomasin at his side. “What of these people, my friend?” he inquires. “Do you trust them?”

 

Pink colors your friend’s cheeks as she grows self-conscious of the crowd’s stares and the god’s inability to speak quietly. “Yeah, whatever, they’re alright I guess,” the warrior woman responds begrudgingly.

 

While it’s not the time for it, Steve notes how you and your friend have such contrasting personalities. Not that he denies the steel will both of you share, but it is the qualities that house those wills that are so very different from one another.

 

“You must really like them to say as much, warrior!” Thor declares with a beaming smile.

 

“Shut up,” Thomasin quickly shoots at him with a pronounced frown on her reddening face.

 

“Am I missing something? Or do those things contradict one another?” Stark mutters to Rogers.

 

“Indeed,” Thor declares to the director, “I search for my brother.”

 

“Your brother, Loki,” Tony continues in a volume to be heard by the god. “Thor and Loki, of Asgard, horned helmet and all that?”

 

Steve sighs and keeps from pulling at his face.

 

Thor turns a questioning look at Stark. “Who is this odd man? He seems to very much enjoy stating obvious facts.”

 

Steve covertly turn his head as he bites back a smile and a chuckle. But he still catches the snicker that escapes Thomasin.

 

“That’s Tony Stark,” she tells the god. “He loves facts, especially obvious ones.”

 

Stark harrumphs unamused, crossing his arms.

 

“So, these guys are like, eh, super heroes,” Thomasin adds. “Got powers and whatnot.”

 

Stark and Rogers exchange a raised brow.

 

“That’s beside the point,” Director Fury buts in.

 

But the god’s attention is already on everyone around him. “What powers do you possess?” he asks, eagerly. “I am most curious. I must admit, upon first glance, I thought you lot regular mortals.”

 

“Well, some of us _are_ regular mortals,” Agent Coulson offers with a chuckle.

 

The blond Asgardian peers at the agent curiously. “You seem familiar,” he says with a rub of his beard. “Have we crossed paths before?”

 

“Yes!” Phil pipes up excitedly. “Phil Coulson. I was there in New Mexico, when you had the, ah, incident with your eye.”

 

The god grimaces. “Ah, I remember now. You’ll have to pardon my memory, that night was admittedly not one of my best.”

 

“That’s all well and good,” Director Fury interjects loudly. “But I’d appreciate an answer to my question. How’d you find us?”

 

“My mother thought it prudent to lead me to the warrior,” Thor explains as he pounds Thomasin’s back with a hearty pat. “Although, I had asked her to send me straight to Loki. She claimed I should not go on my own.” He gives a slight bob to his head. “She worries.”

 

Stark rubs the back of his neck, processing the god’s statements and trying to understand the family dynamics among a family that is not supposed to exist. “A mother’s love, I suppose,” he mutters to himself.

 

“She has a right to,” Thomasin tells him with a serious tone. “Thor, he’s not right. It’s… it’s bad.”

 

“Understatement of the year,” Stark puts in, but doesn’t catch the look Steve throws him.

 

“Do you know where Loki is?” Fury asks Thor.

 

“I’ve no idea,” the God of Thunder answers with a shrug. He turns his attention to Thomasin. “Warrior, we should be off! Lead the way, and I will follow.”

 

“Lead the way?” she asks in confusion. “Thor, _I_ don’t know where Loki is any more than you do.”

 

Thor stares down at the woman with a wide eye. “But in the past, the two of you have always been able to-”

 

“Yeah, well, count that shit out,” Thomasin cuts in. “I have no clue where he’s at. Swear.”

 

The god takes the news into consideration before giving another shrug. “No matter,” he waves off. “The healer should be able to trace him, regardless.”

 

This garners Steve’s keen attention as his chest tightens.

 

The smiling blond gazes about the room. “Where is the tiny woman?” he asks, eye searching every face around him. “I’d’ve imagined her to be by your side from the moment you set foot on Midgard!”

 

A shadow crosses over Thomasin’s features as she crosses her arms tightly over her chest.

 

“Your, ah, lovely brother took her out of commission,” Stark answers the god on behalf of everyone around him.

 

“What? Pardon?!” Thor exclaims.

 

“Unconscious,” Steve quickly corrects, cutting a frown at Stark. “She’s _unconscious_.” His wounded heart aches greatly.

 

Thor’s blue eye grows wide. “By the Nine,” he mutters in disbelief with a shake of his head.

 

“We should get out of the hall,” Agent Coulson proposes. “There are better places to hold this conversation.”

 

“I’ll second that,” Director Fury puts in and jerks his head to the hall exit.

 

~*~

 

Director Fury leads the growing group of people into a laboratory-like area. There’s a familiar feeling that comes within being in such a room for Steve. He did, after all, volunteer himself to be an experiment. Yet when he came out on the other end, he did not expect _this_ to be what he would find down the road.

 

Rogers leans against one of the silvery, laboratory tables with his shield resting on its surface. Stark eyes it curiously before settling around the other side of the table. Agent Coulson and Director Fury face the rest of the group that is fanned out in front of them.

 

The lab is a bubble-like room, small with large windows. Technology and an assortment of equipment peppers the room. Two other stainless-steel tables fill the floor space. The area feels very sterile, even medical.

 

Steve notes how the warrior woman chews on her lip as her guarded, steely eyes bounce around the contents of the room, and it puts him in mind of your absolute aversion to hospitals. He has a suspicion that she’s experienced similar harsh events as you have. Thomasin keeps near Thor and crosses her arms.

 

Fury does a quick interrogation of Thor, and unfortunately gains no new knowledge. Once that is understood, everyone else proceeds to enlighten the God of Thunder of what his beloved brother has been up to on Earth. The blond god periodically checks in with Thomasin to verify the information. To his great dismay, it is all true – the power of the scepter, taking over people’s minds, careless deaths, and a reality that he will stop at nothing until he gets what he wants.

 

And, of course, the scepter is at the center of it all. Or at least, Thor believes so, and Steve is right there with him.

 

The burly god strokes his blond beard as things settle in his mind. When he is finally ready, he shakes himself out of the stupor and takes on his light demeanor from earlier. Thor launches into a quick introduction of himself. Thor, son of Odin, prince of Asgard of the Nine Realms, brother to Loki, and friend to the warrior woman, Thomasin.

 

Steve grows confused when Thor inquires over a woman by the name of Jane Foster. Surprise compounds with the confusion when Phil Coulson informs the god of her whereabouts and her protection through S.H.I.E.L.D. Things slowly grow to make more sense as Coulson further runs through the New Mexico situation with Thor and what came of it. Steve is sure that you do not have all of this information, but now it helps him and Tony understand why things went the way they did.

 

Thor then turns his attention toward those around him with open curiosity on his face. “And what of yourselves?” he asks.

 

Steve takes a quick breath and decides to go first. “I was born a sickly child at a different time,” he starts. “By the time I reached adulthood, our country was at war. The military would not accept me due to my conditions. A scientist found me and volunteered me for an experiment that could make a difference in the war. I was infused with a serum that produced body and mind enhancements.” Steve motions to himself to exemplify his point. “I fought in the war with an elite team for years, but that came to an end when I went down with a plane that would’ve wiped out most of the continent. I woke up only a brief time before you made it to New Mexico.”

 

Coulson lets out a light chuckle which garners Thor’s attention. “The captain is being rather modest in his tale,” he says.

 

Thor lifts a brow. “He is a captain?”

 

“Oh, yes, a decorated one at that! He is a hero to our country.” Agent Coulson quickly dives into the heroics of Captain America.

 

Steve stands by quietly as the man sings his praises. The captain notes how Thomasin watches him silently, as though further cementing the “super hero” idea she already brought up. He can also feel the derision emanating from Stark on the other side of the table. Steve can’t bring himself to meet the man’s gaze, so he waits it out, quietly wishing you could detract the attention the way he’s seen you do before.

 

Unsurprising to the captain, the God of Thunder listens to the feats with great interest and appreciation. But Steve is grateful when Thor moves on from him and asks about Agent Coulson himself. The agent very easily gives some vague, but good enough answers to gain the god’s confidences and friendship. Just like everything else in S.H.I.E.L.D., it’s glossed over.

 

Thor’s blue eye falls on Stark.

 

“Oh, is it my turn, finally?” Tony quips and dutifully launches into his autobiography that encompasses all things Stark.

 

The story isn’t new to Steve. He knows how Tony inherited everything from Howard, and with equal genius, continued the production of technology and advancements. But he talks of his current work, Stark Tower which now gives New York City a source of clean, sustainable energy and how Stark Industries is expanding to produce better and more efficient ways of living. And, of course, Iron Man is at the center of it all.

 

Thor nods, stroking his beard. “With such progress for your people, why be the man of iron?” he inquires curiously.

 

Steve watches Stark and observes the minute change in demeanor. He listens to Tony wave off the bad history he made for himself with the weaponry Stark Industries use to be known for. But Steve recognizes the haunted look in his eyes. It’s a look the captain has seen in himself. There’s remorse there. It’s the first time Steve has seen Tony acknowledge things in such a way. It gives him room to give some credit to Stark. Captain Rogers understands what it means to do things he wishes he hadn’t and bear that responsibility. Even if the two men do so in very different ways.

 

With a nod and an amiable smile, Thor looks to Fury. “And what of yourself, sir?”

 

“My name is Director Nick Fury,” the director responds bluntly. “And that’s all you need to know.”

 

Steve watches the god’s happy demeanor quickly fade away. The two one-eyed men continue flushing out details until once more no additional information is available. A lull of terse silence falls upon the lab.

 

Suddenly, Agent Coulson perks up as the com comes to life in his ear. “On my way,” he responds to the caller. He meets the group’s gaze. “Pardon my leave, but I’m needed at the bridge.” The agent exits the quiet room.

 

Fury sighs. “I need to think,” he tells the rest as he moves away to stare out the lab window. His eye traces the machinery they’re surrounded by as his mind races and whirls to figure this massive problem out.

 

The leftover silence leaves the last four with a rising tension for who is going to move or say or do something first.

 

Steve catches Thor’s eye before they both get distracted by Tony’s cracking knuckles.

 

“Alright, seems we’ve learned all we can here,” Stark states and moves to the other silver table. He reads over the control panel and begins tacking away. In the next moment, holographic screens appear over the various tables. “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” Tony remarks with a stroke over his goatee.

 

“Yes,” Thor breathes with great relief. “Let us locate my brother.”

 

As Tony works with the new computers and technology, Steve stares blankly at the holographic screen before him. And he always thought Howard was ahead of their time.

 

“So, how’d the two of you meet, anyway?” Tony asks Thor and Thomasin who still stand together off to the side.

 

“Oh, my friend,” Thor says with a grin lighting up his face, “that is a grand tale.” The living mythology removes his silver helm to expose his long, blond hair and duly flows into his “grand tale.” Thor tells of the gory battle, of Thomasin’s horrific feats – which gained her the nickname “Bloody Warrior” – her falling unconscious, and finally her time in the infirmary.

 

Steve’s heard catches of this story but listening to Thor tell it makes the soldier have a renewed sense of fear and respect for the solemn woman that is your friend, and for the battles you both have seen.

 

“A fearsome sight!” Thor exclaims, describing her waking spell. “Downright hostile, she was, rising from the sickbed, ordering both princes of Asgard to stay back with murderous intent. I thought I’d saved a helbeast!” He lands a hearty clap on Thomasin’s back as he bellows a laugh that practically reverberates off the lab’s walls.

 

Thomasin just rolls her eyes after regaining the breath Thor knocked out of her.

 

“Hostile,” Tony interjects with a smirk. It only gains him a glare from the woman. “I can see that.” While Stark continues to wait for the Helicarrier’s system to finish loading what he needs, he looks over at the two again. “So, what, the two of you a thing?”

 

Steve rubs his eyes, groaning quietly as he hears Thomasin stutter some flabbergasted gibberish.

 

“What?” Thor asks in confusion.

 

“Stark,” states Fury from his corner, “that’s irrelevant.”

 

“Like, a thing,” Stark repeats, but only receives a blank stare from Thor. “Like, _together_ ,” Tony clarifies with a roll of his eyes. “A couple.”

 

“Oh, _stars_ no!” Thor gasps immediately. “Has she not told you?” Thor’s eye quickly jumps down to Thomasin and back at Tony. “The woman is practically my sister! And whether the marriage happens or not, I count her as such.”

 

“What?”

 

 _Well… here we go_ , Steve thinks to himself.

 

“Excuse me?” Fury interjects, deciding to rejoin the group.

 

Thomasin glowers at the floor, cursing to herself.

 

“Really,” Steve puts in, “we should be focusing on finding Loki.”

 

But Steve’s words go unheard of by the god as Thor looks at Thomasin with clear confusion on his bearded face. “You haven’t made mention of your engagement?” he asks the woman in clear disbelief that she’s omitted this vital information about herself.

 

“Previous engagement, Thor,” the warrior woman quickly amends as her face begins to redden at the sudden attention and particular topic. “Gods, it’s been a whole fucking year,” she further explains, “and, I mean, we’ve told you what he’s done.”

 

Thor’s face is truly crestfallen. “So, you’ve given up on him as well?” Hurt is clearly heard in his voice.

 

Thomasin meets Thor’s eye with a bitter glare. “ _He_ gave up on _me_ ,” she hisses at him, hidden hurt in her own response.

 

Steve take a step closer. “I feel like this isn’t going to help us accomplish our goal right now,” he informs Thomasin and Thor, hoping to dispel the growing tensions and touchy subject.

 

Nick Fury crosses his arms as he sets his eye on Thomasin. “No, Rogers,” he responds to Steve, “I’d say this is relevant. Quite a personal relationship you’ve neglected to mention.”

 

 _Damn_ , Steve thinks to himself as he places his hands on his hips. He waits to see what happens, ready to act in case anything _really_ starts going south.

 

“It doesn’t change anything,” Thomasin explains with ice in her voice. “I want to stop him as much as you guys do. He put my friend in a fucking coma. And I don’t care if it kills me, I’m going to make him fix it. Or pay for it. Whichever comes first.”

 

“Thomasin,” Thor pleads in utter disbelief, anguish pulling at his features.

 

The woman casts the blond god a quick look before she returns to facing off the director, who looks ready to bury her. They hold a silent conversation.

 

Steve runs a hand through his hair and glances over at Tony, who has been oddly quiet among all this commotion that he started. “Stark, any luck on pinpointing Loki’s location?” Steve asks him. “The sooner we deal with this, the better.”

 

Tony mutters something to himself incoherently as he taps at the panel.

 

Director Fury finally releases Thomasin’s steely gaze and looks to Stark. “I agree.”

 

“It’s loading,” Tony retorts. “Give it a bit, damn.”

 

Silence descends, and this time everyone sits in their own silence, attempting to ignore the others. Fury moves away again to think some more. Steve leans against the silver table with his arms crossed, impatient that this is lagging so much. Thor is quietly lost in his troubled thoughts, and Thomasin hugs herself tightly not meeting anyone’s eyes.

 

It’s after a time that a strange sound gains Steve’s attention. He finds that it’s coming from Stark’s throat, a strange “mmm” sound.

 

Tony is giving Thomasin a weird look as the sound grows. “MMMMMM the horse thing,” he finally blurts.

 

Nick and Steve exchange glances, waiting to see where this goes.

 

“What?” Thomasin questions after a blink.

 

“The horse thing,” Tony repeats with a wave of his hand as though that clarifies his strange statement. “According to Norse mythology, your boyfriend fucked a horse. Or, rather, was… fucked by a horse, although I really don’t think the technicality matters.”

 

As disturbing as it is to hear, the old myth drops into Steve’s mind from reading it a very long time ago.

 

Thor stares at Stark with clear, disbelieving astonishment. “I beg your pardon?” he asks.

 

“The fuck?” Thomasin adds in equal confusion.

 

“I actually _do_ think I’ve read about that,” the captain states quietly. _And some other interesting stories… then again, they’re mythologies_ , his thoughts continue.

 

“Oh yeah,” Stark continues and pulls up a new page on the computer that displays itself in the various screens. “And there’s more. I’ll find the whole story.”

 

“Stark,” Nick cuts in.

 

“I don’t know how much stock you can put into mythologies,” Steve tries to add.

 

“Oh, shit,” Tony suddenly blurts. He stares at the screen intensely.

 

Annoyance makes its way to the captain’s voice as he says, “Seriously, now’s not the time.”

 

Stark waves him off. “No, shut up. I found him.”

 

“What?” Fury asks and moves to join Steve at the screen over the table he’s next to. He and the captain scan over the information.

 

Tony filters through the incoming feed on his screen. “Look at this,” he tells the others. “That bastard. His smug face plastered all over the Internet. Look, there are posts from five minutes ago. Facebook, Twitter. This fucker.”

 

Steve is swimming through the terminology, but you’ve helped him understand what some of those things are. Something they call “social media,” but through the Web system. It’s still too confusing and frustrating to Steve. So his eyes ignore the script around the photos and focuses on the pictures themselves, looking for details.

 

The pictures are mostly taken from a distance, but the backgrounds only match each other for a few photosets before new pictures show up. They all show Loki walking down the streets flanked by the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents he's commanding.

 

“It’s a challenge,” the director states. “He’s daring us to come after him.”

 

“Fuck the facial recognition,” Stark says from behind them. “We know where he is.”

 

“No, we don’t,” Captain Rogers corrects. “Look at the pictures. They show different cities. London, Paris, Berlin, Tokyo, Egypt, Moscow.”

 

Even though Tony is staring at the same information as the captain, he does not understand how to make sense of this oddly true statement. He points at the screen and looks to Thomasin. “How… exactly… is he in multiple places at once?” he inquires.

 

“Illusions,” she answers as though it should be obvious and continues to chew on her lip as her eyes scan the screens.

 

Tony then checks in with Thor, who promptly nods. Stark returns to the screen. “Right, of course, illusions,” he mutters to himself.

 

Director Fury takes control from his screen and starts divvying up the feeds into their respective locations. “We need to find the real Loki,” he tells the crew.

 

Thomasin shakes her head. “He’s setting a trap,” she says.

 

Steve pulls at his face. “What’s new?” he asks quietly, and then glances at Thomasin. “We’ll figure out how to approach the trap later, but first, how do we find the real Loki?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that was fun to receive! Please forgive me for the unexpected hiatus, school and other stuff really got in the way. But, hey, I finally got to submit my chapter! And now that it's summer, I'll hopefully be able to keep this up a little better! So, here's to hoping! ^_^
> 
> Also, I want to send so many thanks and hugs and love to everyone who's recently been reading and leaving kudos and commenting, y'all make my day! Every single one of you readers, new and old, are amazing and make this journey so worth it! <3


	10. Lost In Between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long, friends! I do hope you like it!

The group of five debate over which of the various Loki images is the real one. Thor points out one that seems likely, Stark counters with another, and even Fury makes note on the picture from New York. _That_ knowledge doesn’t sit well with Steve as he eyes his home through a screen. But he figures that if Loki were in NYC, Carla would’ve already made contact about it. She knows to.

 

“But he’s just _guessing_ ,” Tony hisses in exasperation at Fury, who just suggested dispatching some of the local agents to search the scene out in New York. “Do you have the kind of manpower it would take, to chase these illusions around?”

 

“It does feel like we’re playing into Loki’s hand,” Steve concedes. He breathes a sigh and crosses his strong arms. There is no progress being made and no plan on how to fix that. “He knew we’d find these,” the captain continues. “The fact that they’re there means he’s already put some sort of plan in motion. We’re a step behind.”

 

“We’re not just a step behind, Captain,” Director Fury puts in, “we’re three steps behind.”

 

Captain Rogers meets the director’s dark eye with his own hard gaze, jaw stiff.

 

“I say we go,” Thor declares as he grabs his winged helm from the nearby tabletop. When he slides it on, it is hard to not picture and believe that he is _truly_ the mythological, Norse god in the flesh. “I tire of standing around when there is action to be taken.”

 

Steve understands his sentiment, but they still need to know the full details before they just run out and chase an illusion... literally.

 

“Hold up, Thor,” Thomasin throws up, her eyes scanning the photos on the screen. “I don’t think that’s him.”

 

A part of Steve relaxes when he realizes she’s referring to the New York sighting.

 

“What?” Thor asks in confusion.

 

The warrior woman points to a very different picture with her finger, and after a moment says, “This is where we should go.”

 

Director Fury eyes the photo. “Why that one?” he inquires.

 

Thomasin works her jaw before answering, “Look, I’m not the most observant person, but I’ve seen this fucking scepter way too many times. And say what you will about me, but I know my weapons.”

 

Steve and Tony exchange glances, neither doubting her statement.

 

She points to several pictures. “A lot of the other ones are wrong. I mean, come on guys, this one’s not even the right color blue, for fuck’s sake,” she says with a wave of her hand. “And see this here, the embellishment’s all wrong. This one’s silver, although I guess that could just be the light. But like, really, it’s like he’s not even trying.” A pronounced frown sits on her lips. “Where is this one at, anyway?” she asks. “Probably somewhere pretty famous, knowing him. There’s a big crowd and… whatever the hell _that_ huge thing is.”

 

Steve leans over to get a look at the picture. He knows that place! “The Eiffel Tower,” he informs her. “It’s a landmark. Yeah, I’d say it’s pretty famous.”

 

The director returns to the console and pulls up new information to read. “And close to us,” he tells the crew. “A little too convenient.”

 

“You think this is him?” Thor questions Thomasin before anyone can reply to Fury. “But he has no entourage, warrior. Why would he travel without those he has… ah… collected?”

 

Steve frowns quietly.

 

“It’s not like he needs a group of people to be dangerous,” Thomasin counters with a look.

 

The frown simply deepens.

 

The Thunder God strokes his blond beard thoughtfully. “This is true,” he mutters quietly. Thor lifts his blue gaze to Thomasin. “A famous Midgardian landmark…. It does sound like him. Very well. Let us be off!”

 

Director Fury turns a grim face upon the woman. “How sure are you?” he presses.

 

“If it’s not him, I’ll be surprised,” she answers bluntly. “But no matter what, I’d expect a fight. A trap, a trick. Something.”

 

“He _is_ the god of trickery,” Thor offers.

 

“Weird,” Tony comments on the side. But then he shrugs and continues, “Well, I’m tired of playing ‘Spot the Difference.’ Let’s get on with it.”

 

“Fine,” Fury announces stretching his neck as he backs away from the computer. “Everyone suit up. If he’s not there, we’ll relocate.”

 

“Oh,” Stark pipes up, “you coming with?” He smirks with a lifted brow.

 

The director marches to the door without a backwards glance. “No, I’m not. I’m expecting someone.”

 

 _Who else does he plan on adding to this mix_ , Steve questions as he heads out.

 

~*~

 

Tom is grateful for the S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform Agent Hill delivers to her. Not because it is a uniform, but because it is the first set of clothes that fit properly. There’s a strange comfort that comes with that. The warrior woman changes as you lie prone and silent on the bed. She can’t quite tell if you look any better or worse, but you do look unnaturally… gray, pale. It is not a common feature of yours to look so… lifeless.

 

Tom shakes her head and slings her pack onto her back. She finally brings herself to walk over to you on the bed. Thomasin has never been one for sentimentality, at least none that she will admit aloud. But she misses you. And she needs your help. So, she grasps your hand for a second. “Don’t leave without me,” your friend tells you. “I’ll be right back. I swear it.”

 

~*~

 

Steve watches your friend’s retreating back, a determined weight in her steps, as she leaves the room you reside in. He steps inside. His heart doesn’t stir at your stillness. He knows you’ve not moved or changed. But you’re still here, lying in the bed, still and silent.

 

Steve approaches your prone form and strokes your cool cheek. “Hey, Starlight,” he speaks softly, “remember your promise. You can’t leave unless I tell you so… and I haven’t told you to go yet. So, come back, love. I still need you here. And so does Thomasin.” His fingers brush over your dry lips and delicate nose. “We need you. Come back. We’re here… waiting for you.”

 

The decorated captain leans over your comatose body. He presses a kiss to your forehead, your nose, and your lips. “You can’t fall away yet, sweet star. Come back.” Captain Rogers adjusts your fox necklace on your chest, squeezes your hand, and finally brings himself to leave the room, shouldering his spangled shield.

 

~*~

 

Agent Romanoff slides her phone across the old, wooden table. “ _This_ ,” she states, “is the Tesseract.”

 

Dr. Bruce Banner approaches cautiously to survey the picture with guarded curiosity. His hands fidget with the ends of his worn, gray sleeves.

 

“It holds the potential power to wipe out the entire planet.”

 

Banner scoffs lightly. “What does Fury want me to do with it? Swallow it?” he inquires.

 

Natasha’s plump lips quirk. “No, he needs you to find it,” she answers. “It’s been stolen, and it emits a gamma signature. We can’t trace it due to its weak register, but there’s no one that knows gamma radiation like you. If there was, that’s where I’d be.” The redheaded agent picks her phone back up and slips it into the folds of her skirt.

 

Dr. Banner fidgets a moment longer. “Fury isn’t after the monster?” he checks.

 

“Not that he told me.”

 

He cocks his head. “And he tells you everything?”

 

Natasha crosses her arms, facing the antsy scientist. “Talk to Fury,” she insists, “he’s the one that needs you on this.”

 

“In a cage,” Bruce challenges.

 

“No one’s going to put you in-”

 

Bruce pounds his fists on the wooden table, eyes flashing green. “ **STOP LYING TO ME!!** ”

 

Agent Romanoff grabs, cocks, and aims her gun at the roaring scientist in a single breath, steeling herself for the worst.

 

Dr. Banner’s intelligent eyes roam the shack they stand within. He feels the tension in the air. He can practically breathe it in. Finally, he reviews the female agent’s trigger-ready posture and smiles softly. Bruce eases back from the rickety table and raises his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, “that was mean of me. I just wanted to see what you would do.”

 

Agent Romanoff doesn’t so much as breathe.

 

“Let’s do this the easy way, alright? You don’t use that,” the scientist nods to the gun, “and the other guy doesn’t make a mess. Okay?”

 

Natasha’s heartrate slowly registers in her bloodstream as she taps the com in her ear. “Stand down,” she commands. “We’re good.” She brings her gun down finally.

 

Bruce feels the tension in the air dissipate as he imagines a troop of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents lowering their weapons. He gives the redheaded woman a charming smile. “Just us, huh?”

 

Natasha lowers her sharp eyes in the slightest acknowledgment of her error.

 

~*~

 

Dr. Banner adjusts his wire-rimmed glasses as Natasha brings the Quinjet within view of a massive aircraft hidden in the dark clouds of the stratosphere. The scientist pulls at his jaw, staring out the windshield. “Heh,” he scoffs quietly, “oh, sure, let’s put me on a floating hunk of metal. It’ll be great. Just peachy.”

 

“No worries, Doc, you’re in good hands,” Agent Romanoff assures, slowly descending onto the Helicarrier.

 

Bruce runs a nervous hand through his black curls and begins to pace behind Natasha’s seat. He picks at his shirt and ignores the agent’s easy maneuvering of their aircraft. But once they land, he follows the woman into the Helicarrier’s belly.

 

Natasha leads the jittery scientist to the bridge where, as she expects, they’re greeted by Director Nick Fury, Agent Phil Coulson, and Agent Maria Hill.

 

“Doctor,” Nick Fury greets and approaches the scientist, hand extended, “thank you for coming.”

 

Dr. Banner shakes the man’s hand with a reserved nod. “Thank you for asking nicely,” he replies. His eyes dart around the room full of computers and agents mumbling amongst themselves. “So, uh… exactly how long am I staying… here?”

 

“Once we have the Tesseract, you’re in the clear.”

 

“And where are you with that?”

 

Agent Coulson steps in with his welcoming smile. “We are sweeping every wirelessly accessible camera on the planet,” he explains. “Cellphones, laptops, et cetera. If it’s connected to a satellite, it’s eyes and ears for us.”

 

Bruce begins rolling up his sleeves and adjusts his glasses. “You need to narrow the field. How many spectrometers do you have access to?”

 

“How many are there?” Fury asks.

 

Dr. Banner gives a half grin. “Call every lab you know,” he orders. “Tell them to put the spectrometers on the roof and calibrate them for gamma rays. I’ll rough out a tracking algorithm using cluster recognitions. That way we can rule out a few places. Do you have somewhere for me to work?”

 

Director Fury nods to Natasha. “Agent Romanoff will show you to the laboratory.”

 

The red woman smiles at the scientist’s guarded gaze and leads the way out. “You’re gonna love it, Doc,” she tells him as she sashays forward. “We got all the toys.”

 

Dr. Banner chuckles and follows, rubbing antsy hands together.

 

~*~

 

You walk through a gray haze. The only sounds that reach your ears are that of your own footsteps and soft breaths. No matter how far you walk, the horizon stays the same. You are in a world of mottled-gray. Even the ground you walk upon is hardly distinguishable from the rest of your surroundings.

 

So, you continue. Something is bound to change if you just keep moving. Surely.

 

The blanket of grayish-white gives “limbo” a whole new meaning. No sounds other than your own reach your ears. The sight is the never-ending fog-like surroundings. And no matter how far you move, nothing changes. You just… _are_ … in this world. And that’s it. You’re not sure how the construct of time works here – for all you know, it may not even _be_ a construct here.

 

You don’t really feel the need to speak into the blanket of silence. You don’t try using your power. There is no panic inside you. You simply continue walking. Something allows you to believe that _eventually_ something will change. So, you wait for that moment to come as you meander on.

 

As this bland eternity continues, something in the air brings about an oddity. You feel the change nearby as it draws your senses. It tugs you closer. Your feet now move with purpose to find the rift that is opening somewhere. Your eyes search for it.

 

A beautiful glimmer of silver rips through the mottled-gray, beams of silver light reach out.

 

Running, you hurry to reach the strange shimmer.

 

In a bright flash that brings you to a halt, the silver spreads and morphs. As shimmer and light finally settle, a glowing apparition is left in its place.

 

You watch curiously as details begin to register.

 

The ghostly woman’s hair falls in a golden cascade about her shoulders. Her body is draped in liquid silver. Her astute eyes peer over your presence. She wears an ancient air with her regal posture.

 

Surprise registers within you as your eyes widen slightly. “Queen Frigga,” you speak aloud, using your voice for the first time in this gray world. You fold into a deep curtsy before the Silver Queen. When you meet her eyes once more, a question tumbles out, “Where am I?”

 

The queen gazes about her strange, new surroundings. “You linger in between realms, healer,” her gentle voice answers.

 

Your brow furrows slightly. Alarm does not set in. No panic registers. You simply take in her words as truth and reality. “How?” you further inquire.

 

Frigga shakes her head. “I do not know, child. You are far from your body. Your spirit drifts here, hardly clinging to yourself.”

 

Your eyes search out the gray environment. Your experience here so far aligns with her words. You observe her ethereal essence. The queen is not truly here the way you are. She’s traveling, projecting perhaps, reaching for you. “How did you find me here?” you ask.

 

“My son released a strong flare of magic on Midgard,” the queen replies.

 

“Loki.”

 

The queenly mother nods her head softly. “I searched its traces but only found your power remaining. When I discovered you encased within, I reached for you.”

 

“Why do you seek me?”

 

“I seek your help, healer,” the Silver Queen implores. “Save Loki.”

 

Where an incredulous outburst might have been the normal response, your brows simply lift slightly. “My Lady, he enslaved my mind,” you counter in your oddly even voice.

 

“You must understand that it is not his own doing.” Her motherly gray eyes plead on his behalf.

 

“It does not negate the action.”

 

“You are right, healer,” she sighs. “It does not.” Her momentary worried features return to their serene state upon her regal face.

 

“Yet you still seek my help. Why?”

 

“Loki has fallen prey to a source that will only destroy him in the end,” the queen answers. “You have the equivalent power to pull him out. Save him, dear healer. Save my son before he destroys himself and everyone else in the process.”

 

“But why _me_?” This is the most force you’ve pressed into your voice thus far.

 

“Because your companion, his love – _the warrior_ – will not be able to do it herself,” she states simply.

 

Something stirs within at the mention of your lifelong friend. A string is found deep within, a gentle tug in your core.

 

“Her heart is wounded,” the queen continues.

 

The corners of your mouth pull downward.

 

“If you will not do it for a mother, will you save him for your friend?”

 

The request is not fair, and you know that. But this is the Allmother, and you are fully aware of what she is willing to go through for her children, regardless of circumstances. Unlike her husband, she at least asks in a forward manner. An invisible weight drapes itself upon your shoulders as you bow your head in response.

 

“Thank you, child,” the Silver Queen whispers. Her lovely visage begins to shimmer and fade.

 

“No. Wait,” you call. “My Lady, send me back.” Your feet shuffle closer, your hand reaching out. “Please.”

 

“I cannot do that, healer,” her voice explains.

 

“Help me get back then.”

 

“Call them,” she continues. “Find your heart. Let it pull you back. Return to them. They need you.”

 

“Wait!”

 

But the voice fades with the glimmer of silver in a flash. And all is silent and gray once more.

 

You are left in the mottled-gray vastness of this in between. Your feet press into the floor, moving you forward. Your eyes search out every lacking detail of your surroundings. Your hands twitch at your sides. But you move and move and search and seek. You must escape.

 

_But how?_

 

Your fingers move to your chest – to your heart – as you drift to a stop.

 

 _“Find your heart,” the queen said_.

 

You press the palm of your hand to your heart. Only now do you realize that there is hardly a beat there. But one exists. You close your eyes and search within, seeking the tug you felt earlier. You look for a connection.

 

Two knots appear within your core. _Steve_ … _Tom_ …. Two pieces of your heart. The lines are pulled taut, as though they’re holding on to you from far, far away. They’re anchoring you. _Steve. Tom_.

 

_“… come… back…”_

 

_“… waiting… for…”_

 

_“… you…”_

 

Your feet move again as your core orients itself. You move with purpose this time, following the inner compass. You seek with a destination in mind. You will find the door that leads you out of here. You _will_ reach them.

 

“Steve. Tom,” you call out into the gray void.

 

The endless fog mocks your progress in its stillness.

 

“Steve! Tom!”

 

The gray swirls like a gust of wind has found its way through it. It pushes you with its current.

 

“ _Steve!_ ”

 

The pounding of your feet keeps you striving through the world of white.

 

“ _Tom!_ ”

 

A burst of light blinds you and claws at your core.

 

“ ** _I’m coming!_** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's coming around? ^_^
> 
> While I'm working on the next chapter, I was hoping to get some feedback from y'all. I have a Discord account and have been considering making a server for this fic series, but also as a way for me to get to chat with y'all about other stories, fandoms, life, and whatnot. If you'd be interested, please let me know!
> 
> I can also be found on Tumblr and Ko-fi by the same name. Feel free to drop by and chat! :) Y'all are amazing!


	11. Reunions

 

The Eiffel Tower is quite the sight to behold as the late afternoon sun shines upon it. The Parisian, architectural wonder towers overhead as the troop scouts out its surroundings from a nearby tree. Locals meander through as they go on about their lives. Foreigners and visitors crowd around the feet of the building taking photographs. Visiting Americans notice the strangely clad group and direct their phones at them, catching a glimpse of Captain America and Iron Man and further gawking at Thor and even the woman among them dressed in all black.

 

There is no Loki to be found, and tensions are rising.

 

Captain Rogers is doing his best to scan the monument for any sign of the other Asgardian, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. The Parisian night looks exactly as he would expect it to. And that’s what makes it all the worse, especially since Thomasin stands on edge as her smart eyes scour the area.

 

Thor is antsy and eager to move. If he’s not careful, he may get them in trouble.

 

“Let’s not be hasty,” the captain warns. “We need to-”

 

_CRACK!_

 

Rogers steps back quick as a blink and throws his shield up. His trained eyes watch the projectile whir by. It strikes the ground behind him.

 

Another _crack_ explodes, and a sharp ping comes from the impact upon Stark’s metal facemask. He takes to the air to spread out from the others.

 

“Where the hell did the shots come from?” Thomasin calls out.

 

As though summoning them, several more shots are fired. And as Steve moves to react, an invisible mass knocks his feet out from under him. The captain lands on his back with a heavy “oof.” Thor grunts from a strike upon him. Both men struggle to orient themselves to the invisible enemies.

 

“Invisible!” Thomasin shouts. “He’s cloaking them!”

 

 _Damn it!_ Rogers gets to his feet and keeps an eye out for signs of movement.

 

“I count ten heat signatures,” Stark informs the group.

 

Another shot is fired. “Stop the gunners!” Rogers shouts, swiping the bullet away with his shield.

 

“Roger,” Stark replies and heads for the tower. “Or rather, Rogers. Heh.”

 

“Not the time!” Steve growls out. He swings his shield and brings an invisible figure to the ground.

 

~*~

 

Dr. Banner stands in the laboratory where the group stood prior to his arrival. His eyes watch the computer as his hands expertly work the console. Data passes through, and he reads it with ease.

 

A light knock comes from the entrance.

 

Bruce glances up to find the agent with the striking red hair standing there.

 

“Care for some company?” Natasha asks.

 

The scientist stretches a hand in invitation. “I can’t say that I’m the most lively of companions to have,” he tells her.

 

She walks in and leans her hip against one of the silver tables. She lifts a shoulder, a slanted red smile on her lips. “I’ll leave it to Fury to give me the excitement.”

 

Bruce scoffs quietly as he continues his work on the computer. “I don’t doubt that.”

 

The truth of his own statement resounds in the scientist’s mind. As he watches from out of the corner of his eye how the deadly agent pulls out her phone to busy herself, he knows the precarious situation he’s allowed himself to be in. He’s surrounded by technology and, likely, weapons. He’s playing with the very fire he ran from just some years back.

 

Dr. Bruce Banner focuses on his work once more, worrying his jaw. He ignores the lingering question that plagues his mind. What will happen if the fire touches him?

 

~*~

 

While a decorated captain fights in a foreign country and a highly skilled scientist types away in a nearby laboratory, you lie silently in a gray bed. The golden streams that have been pulsing through your bloodstream suddenly halt their flow. If one were to be in the room with you, they would’ve seen how the golden light in your veins begin to reverse its course. The shimmer rushes back to its pumping source. All at once, your light disappears into your heart, and for once since you’ve fallen into your coma, it pounds hard in your chest.

 

You wake with a horrid, throat-clawing gasp. Your eyes are wide open with alarm, and your arms thrash about your body to fend off the suffocating cloud. As much as you’re attempting to swallow in air, it feels as though none enters. An invisible weight sits upon your chest. It causes you to heave for oxygen. Lethargically, you push yourself to sit up, only to fall right over the edge of the bed as though you’re nothing more than a ragdoll.

 

You land with a painful thud on the floor. Everything hurts. Your body feels like someone used it for a punching bag. Pushing up on weak arms, you suck in a ragged breath. And suddenly your eye stings, making you yelp.

 

Flashes of gold blind it and make your swimming head ache. With bleary vision and a hand over your sporadic eye, you weakly rise to your feet. The world tilts and swirls as your weight swings you around and sends you slamming towards the door. Grunting from the pain and disequilibria, you press yourself against the doorframe and attempt to gather your bearings.

 

The room you stand within is gray, all gray. It’s squarish with a bed, a couch, and another door leading to a bathroom. You don’t recognize the room. You are aware enough that you’ve never been here before. And you most certainly do not know how you got here.

 

But something catches your eye… sort of. There’s an air about the room that feels familiar to you. It registers as a vague substance that you have felt before. It’s like being in a room and catching the whiff of a perfume scent after the wearer has left. And that’s when it strikes you – it’s Steve!

 

The gold light in your eyes flares again, sending your head swimming once more. But you’re sure that it is the lingering sense of his presence that you feel. He’s been here, you just know it! Your hands fumble for the doorknob until you finally get the door open. You stumble out into the brighter lit, gray, metal hallway. Balance still hasn’t been restored to you, so you sway and bump your way down, tracing the lingering presence. You don’t register that your feet are bare, or that you wear a tattered dress. Your body is hardly processing how much pain it is in. Bruises are visible on your exposed skin, and there’s a dull pounding at the back of your head. Yet your sole focus is to find the man you’ve lost.

 

You find a heavy concentration of his presence in a room just up ahead. You can vaguely make out voices talking past an open doorway, and excitement rises in your chest. “Steve?” you call out hoarsely. The lack of use makes your voice crack and sends you into a coughing fit. “Steve?” you croak once more. Hurrying to the threshold, you slump against its frame, poking yourself inside.

 

There’s a powerful presence within.

 

“Steve!” you exclaim. But immediately your face falls at the sight that greets you.

 

The man you see is not your blond captain. No blue eyes meet your own. No crooked smile to find, just a man with dark, curly hair wearing wire glasses and a perplexed look on his ragged face. _He_ is the one that bears the essence of power in the room.

 

“Steve?” you ask again, rising tears cause your voice to waver.

 

“The captain’s not here,” a female’s voice answers. A woman with blood red hair dressed in all black steps into view. She watches you with piercing eyes and thinned red lips.

 

A tremor runs through your body. “Where is he?” Gold flickers in your eye, and your mouth feels dry.

 

The woman is slowly approaching you. “He’s gone,” she says cautiously. “On a-”

 

“ _Gone?_ ” you cry, hearing nothing more but that dreaded word. Tears break through and stream down your cheeks. “Gone.” A memory flickers through your mind’s eye – a flash of light, a scream, and a deadly burst. The gold oozes brighter, hurting your head. A trembling hand rises to your slack jaw. “Did I _kill_ him?”

 

“What?” Dr. Banner cuts in, looking to Agent Romanoff to explain what’s going on. And when she looks back at him, her own face wears confusion but she shakes her head in quick explanation. “Then tell her!” he hisses, hands twitching as his nerves threaten to rise.

 

You suddenly crumple onto your hands and knees on the metal floor, weeping. Your heart aches painfully in your chest, and its erratic thrums coincide with the sporadic glowing coming from your hands and eye.

 

Figures hurry over to you and kneel before your bleary sight. It’s the dark-haired man and the redheaded woman. “Miss, Miss,” the man’s voice calls out to you. He tentatively takes your hand to gather your attention, at the same time the woman takes your other hand.

 

And it’s like two anchors slam down on you. Their incredibly strong presences pull you from your ocean of untethered emotion and ground you to the present. Your eyes sharpen in that instant, and a refreshing breath fills your lungs. Your hands are iron grips on theirs, trembling from how tightly you’re holding on.

 

“He’s not dead,” the red agent finally gets out. “Neither is your friend. They’re out on a mission.”

 

You zero in on the woman’s words. _Not dead. **They’re** … not dead. Steve… and Tom… are **alive**!_ Your eyes search frantically. “Where... where are they?” you ask.

 

“Fury’s sent them to Paris to capture Loki,” the woman answers.

 

Without bothering to find out more or even how far out that may be, you grip their hands and project your tracing light out. They anchor you to your body since you know you lack the strength you need for this endeavor. You’re borrowing them to slingshot your presence out in search of the strings that connect you to your loved ones.

 

Natasha and Bruce watch as gold light overtakes both your eyes, and they feel it when your presence passes through them. They would liken it to the feel of an ocean wave cresting onto them, pressing them into the sand.

 

You find the end of the strings finally and crash into them. The connections are revived, and you can _feel_ them once more. _Steve_ , you breathe into one. _Tom_ , you exclaim into the other. They’re within close proximity of one another so you don’t mind taking turns communicating.

 

You touch Tom’s connection. _Tom! It’s me! I’m alive! Come find me_. You feel her acknowledgment before moving on. You tug on Steve’s connection. _My love, I’m here! I’m back. Come to me_. You feel his cautious caress, as if he’s afraid to believe it’s really you. _I’m here, Steve_. But then you must let go. Much like a rubber band pulled too tightly, your presence snaps back to your body.

 

~*~

 

Bruce and Natasha are rousing you from your faint after regaining their own senses. They watched and felt as you snapped back into yourself, knocking you out upon impact. But it’s only a few seconds later that they’re waking you.

 

You start with a gasp, and immediately feel so incredibly heavy on top of the exhaustion that is starting to seep through your senses. They notice how your eyes have returned to normal, no more golden light exudes from them. You yourself feel the stability of being reoriented to your power. It’s back in your control and not flailing everywhere. You accept the people’s help to sit up and rest against the metal wall.

 

The man stands up, a ball of wired nerves that you can feel radiating off him. He’s still shaking off the lingering effect of the intimate meetings you held. “What the fuck was that?” he exclaims as he palms his fist in order to calm himself.

 

The woman also stands, seemingly unperturbed, and promptly moves to the side. She holds a finger to her ear as she whispers something in the doorway.

 

You hold a hand up and much to your amazement, the man takes it. He hauls you to your feet, which is not necessarily what you wanted him to do. But as you lean against the wall, you soften his essence with your own, stealing away his nerves and replacing them with ease. You visibly see his shoulders relax and his face soften. You remove your hand and say, “Sorry. You’ve obviously not heard of me.” So, you introduce yourself.

 

He stares at you a moment, still mentally perplexed. “Dr. Bruce Banner,” he replies in return. “And I’m gonna need a resume if we plan on getting along.”

 

You chuckle and nod, still slumped against the wall. Deep seeded exhaustion is slowly overtaking everything in you.

 

A shift in the air alerts everyone to a rift that tears open. Darkness pulls from within like hungry tendrils. Instead, two figures step out from its eerie midst.

 

You push off the wall with what little energy you have left. “Steve! Tom!” Unfortunately, you’ve sorely underestimated just how weak you are. After taking two steps away from the wall, your legs give out. Your sluggish weight plummets for the floor.

 

Tom calls out for you as her arms catch your upper body.

 

Your knees clash against the floor painfully, but it doesn’t matter, because you are finally hugging your dearest friend. You haven’t seen Tom in so long now. She’s not visited you, hardly even spoken to you. But here she is. “Tom,” you cry through a throat full of emotion, tears falling. “Friend.” You hug her tightly to your chest as you both sit on the floor. “I’m so sorry.”

 

Suddenly your friend trembles in your embrace, and she buries her face in your shoulder. You hold her as though shielding her from the world and the pain. No one hears her quiet sobs, but you feel them in your core. You absorb her grief, and you sit with her until she comes to a place where she feels the need to gather herself again.

 

Tom swipes at her face and nose, still semi hiding behind you as she pulls away. “Why are you making me cry, dammit,” she accuses you with a garbled laugh. “This isn’t a good look for me.”

 

You laugh with her as you dry your own cheeks. “There still could be worse,” you tease and take her forearms. You feed each other strength simply from being in one another’s presences.

 

“It’s about time you woke up,” Tom tells you, her eyes searching your tired face.

 

You nod. “Took me a bit. Kinda got lost in transit,” you say with a wry smile. And then in a softer tone, you add, “I’ll explain later.”

 

Your friend nods her understanding. There is a lot to tell, but it is put on hold for the sake of the moment. Tom then looks over her shoulder and with a final squeeze, she lets you go to rise from the floor.

 

Suddenly your decorated captain is kneeling before you with a soft smile on his lips and warmth in his eyes. “Hey, Star,” he greets softly. Your name escapes him in the barest of whispers as his hand caresses your cheek.

 

Tears sting your eyes, and your chest swells with emotion. “Steve,” you beckon. And in the next second, his mouth is on yours as his strong hands hold you to him, trying desperately not to crush you in the process.

 

You cling to him with what withering strength you have left and only break from him when a sob tears through your throat. The memory of him at the museum floods your mind. You remember what you did to him. You remember how you attacked him… intent on… _hurting_ him.

 

“Steve,” you cry, tears flowing down, “I’m so sorry!” A horrid sob wracks your chest. “I’m so… sorry… for-for _attacking_ you… and _hurting_ you!” You cry miserably as your mind is plagued by broken images and memories that hurt to concentrate on. “I-I didn’t want to! I’m so, so sorry, love!” You sob into his chest and tremble in his strong embrace.

 

“How can we know that for sure?” says a gruff voice.

 

Steve almost instinctively tightens his hold on you. “We’re not doing this right now, Nick,” the captain nearly growls. With his arms around you, Steve rises to his feet, bringing you along.

 

You are only able to stand because he is keeping you upright. Your legs, much like your insides, feel like jelly.

 

“And why not? This seems like a perfectly good time for it,” the director counters as he crosses his arms, eying you sternly.

 

You would retort if it wasn’t for the energy you are expanding to simply keep upright.

 

Much to everyone’s surprise, it is Dr. Banner that speaks up. “I don’t really think this needs to be an _interrogation_ ,” the jittery man tells the director as he looks you over in concern. “She can barely stand.”

 

The redheaded agent from earlier hooks her toe around a small, rolling stool and slides it your way. Steve stops it with his own boot, giving the woman an appreciative glance. He eases you down onto it.

 

You don’t want to sit, but that doesn’t matter. Your legs can’t take your weight anymore. They fall out from under you, and you drop onto the stool. Your head swims as your trembling thighs and feet scream of their relief.

 

Steve stands where you can lean back against one of his legs for strength and support. He, Tom, and Dr. Banner introduce themselves to one another.

 

This short interlude allows you some time to regain your visual focus. You meet Dr. Banner’s gaze.

 

“Why don’t you just tell us what you’ve been through?” he inquires. “If it’s not too much…”

 

Agent Romanoff agrees as she rests against one of the silver tables. “If you need a break, that’s alright. We’re here to listen, however long it takes,” she assures.

 

You realize you’re fingers grasp Steve’s hand tightly. He squeezes back gently, and it helps you breathe. There are so many eyes staring at you, but they need to know. As though you conjure it with the retrieval of your memories, a dull ache appears behind your eyes.

 

“I ran into Loki when I got a message from Director Fury to find him in New Mexico,” you start, struggling pull on tattered memories. “I remember the place was under an alarm, so people were fleeing. I snuck my way inside.” You shake your head.

 

“When I saw Loki, I knew there was something clearly _off_ about him. His eyes were blue and unnatural, which even for Loki is not normal. He came with some kind of… mission, even though we hadn’t heard from him in so long.” Pain stabs behind your eye. “He touched me with the scepter before I could do anything to stop him. By the time I woke back up from that, I was already on the truck with him.” You feel yourself harden at the shadow of the images. “My orders were to protect Loki at all costs.”

 

Tom’s jaw clenches. Her fingers begin working the bracelet on her wrist.

 

“Barton” – more pain – “took us to… to another lab, an abandoned one to hide out. The other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents,” you continue, wincing against the mincing of your brain, “created some kind of lab set up to work in, computers and monitors and other tech.”

 

Steve squeezes your hand again. It almost makes the pain ease.

 

“Loki was very careful about how much information he let me take in. When the scepter has you,” you motion with your free hand around your head, “it expands your mind in ways that make other needs and thoughts disappear. It wasn’t the worst thing for me, but… that thing wears you thin. It… he… _pries_ information from you. It, he, _they_ use your natural skills and enhance them for the goal in mind.”

 

You massage your aching temple. “At one point a set of Asgardian warriors came to get Loki.” You take a deep breath, keeping from looking at Tom. “Barton and I killed them. He and I led the rogue S.H.I.E.L.D. ship away. He and I helped formulate the plan that would get us into Germany for the Iridium. We were his two gophers, making sure that things got done.”

 

A bubble of thrashing emotion catches your senses. Your eyes land on your friend. She looks so pale. There’s so much pain in her usually steely eyes. And for that tiny moment, she looks as fragile as porcelain doll.

 

You tug on her connection. _You okay?_

 

Thomasin swallows hard as her fists tighten and untighten. She’s working to keep a hold of herself. Finally, she gives the tiniest of nods.

 

Your gaze returns to your audience. “We split up,” you start again. “My job was to stay at Loki’s side. We were the distraction upstairs…. We also needed an eye.” Your stomach rolled at the disgusting thought and even more horrifying, patchy memory. “Barton had different orders than I did. Like I said, Loki was careful on what information I took in. I don’t know where he went. I don’t know if they’re at the same place or if they’ve moved. I don’t even know what they’re technically doing.” Another stab of pain attacks the space behind your eye as you try to recall the place you remember staying at.

 

“When you all arrived… I couldn’t help my attacks. He was my priority. I was to defend him. The scepter… demanded it.” You shake your head painfully. “No matter what. But it aggravated my abilities, to the point that its rebellion was literally leaking out. And when I heard Tom’s shout,” you stutter to a halt, remembering the blast and sudden darkness that followed, “that was it.”

 

The room sits in silence.

 

Director Fury watches you with his stern frown. It is still another beat longer before he finally lets out an exhausted sigh. “Do you know how complicated all of this is?” he asks in tired aggravation. He points a gloved finger at you. “I’m ordering a psychological evaluation for you.”

 

“What?” you screech, sending a new wave of pain through your head.

 

“We’re dealing with a lot here,” he explains, “and we can’t risk having you compromised.”

 

You grind your teeth but watch as the director holds up a hand to halt Steve and Tom’s outbursts.

 

“Protocol. This is the best outcome of the scenario. Trust me.”

 

You huff quietly, and then feel Steve squeeze your hand. You lift your eyes to him and feel some of your ire deflate. His sweet, blue eyes tell you that he’s here with you. Your head rests against his leg again and close your eyes. Having his presence again is a balm to your frayed sanity.

 

Tom and Fury have a discussion over other sites. You figure it is about other places Loki might be at. Not that you’re going to be of much help with that, so you let them talk and try to regain your energies.

 

“So, what now?” Agent Romanoff asks the room. She catches your eyes when you open them. She flicks her hair as her gaze moves on.

 

“We find the cube,” Dr. Banner states. His gaze shifts to a holographic image of the glowing blue thing over one of the tables. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have dragged me into this.”

 

Something in his voice makes you sad for the man. He doesn’t want to be here. His perpetual nervous energy speaks loudly to this fact. You want to apologize for the way he was introduced to you.

 

“If it’s not with Loki,” Director Fury adds.

 

Your brows scrunch at the slight hope-filled idea. The dull ache is growing again.

 

“I don’t think it is,” Steve counters.

 

“I agree,” Tom encourages. “I feel like I would’ve sensed something that powerful. Plus, if he had it at his disposal, he would’ve used it.”

 

The image of the blue cube sears your mind, and you start rubbing at your temple again. “He doesn’t have it on him,” you solidify. “I think… it’s somewhere else. Someone was working on it.”

 

“Working on it? What about it?” Fury asks you.

 

The cube burns inside your brain. “I’m not sure. But someone else is in charge of it. He was a nice guy. Really smart.” You can vaguely make out his features in your mind. His possessed blue eyes.

 

“Any idea of his name?” Romanoff inquires.

 

So many details… with so much fuzziness surrounding them all. You shake your head as much as it kills you to, because you can see him… _deep_ in your memories.

 

“Does one Doctor Erik Selvig ring any bells?” the director puts out.

 

Suddenly the man’s features clear somewhere in your mind’s eye with a nasty stab at your head, making you wince from the pain. But you can see him, and the name connects. “Yes,” you say shakily, “I… I think so. He’s the one…. He’s… working on the Tesseract.” You slump against Steve again, utterly exhausted.

 

“Don’t push yourself, Star,” Steve tells you gently. The hand that holds yours stretches a finger to stroke a stray lock of hair out of your face. “We’re just glad to have you back with us.”

 

A ghost of a smile crawls onto your lips.

 

“You got that… right…” Tom starts and eerily drifts off.

 

A chill runs down your spine as you swivel to see, knowing exactly where he is at.

 

Through the lab’s panoramic window, everyone watches as a troop of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents lead Loki in handcuffs. His galactic, blue eyes practically glow as they find his captive audience.

 

Your insides freeze when his electric gaze lands on yours. The familiarity of those wretched eyes makes your head and body deteriorate.

 

 _Greetings, healer…_.

 

Everything in your body screams to _run_.

 

Run from the Deranged Prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was halfway done for way too long. Sorry, guys!
> 
> Grad school makes it hard to have time to write. I hope to get another chapter done within the time I'm off for the holidays. But thanks for your patience, kudos, and comments! They still make my day when I see them come in ^_^


End file.
